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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068501">A Study in Survival</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills'>strawberry_pills</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Minor Character Death, No beta we die like horcruxes, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, On the Run, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:13:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place at the beginning of Deathly Hallows. Lucius Malfoy is given a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the Dark Lord but when unforeseen circumstances happen, he is forced to go on the run with the enemy he is tasked to abduct. He and Hermione Granger must now work together in order to capture and destroy all of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, the idea for this fic began as a 'What If' last October while my friends and I were watching Death Hallows Part 1. It started from "What if Draco Malfoy left the Death Eaters and joined the Golden Trio on the Horcrux hunt?" and then theories were passed around until it became "What if Lucius Malfoy was forced to go on the run with the Golden Trio?". And the idea just won't leave me alone so here we are.</p><p>This story will still follow the DH plot for the most part. Hermione will still get tortured in Malfoy Manor and there will be some canon minor deaths. Unlike my other fics where I mostly just wing it, this one is fully outlined except the last chapter which is the epilogue. The ending will depend on your feedback. Also, mind the tags.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is more like a character study with me trying to get into their headspace. I took certain liberties regarding Hermione and Lucius' backstory/characterization in this fic (esp. Hermione's) as well as the dates of events. The first time I read the HP books, I was honestly surprised that Hermione's parents were so open-minded about her magical powers considering her parents were from the medical field. Weren't they frightened of their child who, one day, suddenly lifted/exploded things with her mind?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p><em>We grow fangs instead of teeth, claws for nails, take apart tower prisons brick by brick with bare hands to stay alive.</em><br/>-Nikita Gill, from Fierce Fairytales: Poems and Stories.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>PROLOGUE.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>JULY 29, 1997.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione Granger flicked her wand and watched as the pristine white cloth slowly and carefully enveloped the grand piano. She glanced around the room to make sure she had not missed a thing before going to check in on the other rooms. When she was sure that every piece of furniture was securely covered and every door was locked, she made her way to her father’s study.</p><p>Her father’s study was much more lavish in design with intricate wooden moldings surrounding the edges of the ceiling while Victorian wallpapers decorated the whole walls. It looked similar to the rooms in Grimmauld Place but much brighter and less stuffy. Rows of bookshelves covered an entire wall containing medical textbooks, self-help books, and other trinkets his father had collected throughout his years of traveling abroad. There were no fictional books there compared to her mother’s collection which contained a hefty number of classical novels.</p><p>It was Hermione’s favorite room, the library only being the second. She remembered sitting in her father’s lap as he read about the most recent medical discovery to her. <em>Look, butterball. They had finally developed a vaccine for Hepatitis B. Isn’t that wonderful?</em> And little Hermione would clap her hands enthusiastically even though she understood none of it. She was just content to see her father’s attention on her.</p><p>Unlike the other rooms, she decided to leave this as it was just in case… in case she could—<em>decided to</em>—bring her father and mother back.</p><p>They were probably at the airport right now.</p><p>The flight they had booked will leave in two hours. Where they will be going after the plane had landed, Hermione had no clue. That was all she knew after she had obliviated her parents and confunded them into migrating to Australia—a country they had been meaning to move to once she had graduated from Hogwarts. Hermione just expedited the process, she guessed.</p><p>Walking over to his father’s desk, Hermione had let a single tear fall down her cheek at the sight of her parents’ photograph sitting there, an inconspicuous empty space between them where she ought to be. The picture was taken during a trip to Greece when she was eight. It had been a good year where she only had two bouts of accidental magic—or ‘episodes’, as her father used to call it.</p><p>It was for their own good, she reasoned deludingly to herself. She had read multiple news of Death Eaters raiding entire Muggle villages and she didn’t want to eventually hear her parents’ names on the list of casualties. Didn’t need their deaths to be on her conscience.</p><p>If she was honest with herself, her relationship with her parents was strained, to say the least. Logically, no one was to blame but fate itself because how could Hermione choose this kind of life? She was only a child. But she couldn’t help but feel that her parents believed it was her fault that she was… <em>this</em>. A witch born from non-magical parents. A Muggleborn witch. An anomaly.</p><p>Her first bout of accidental magic started when she was four. According to her mother, her toothbrushes kept vanishing every time her mother would ask her to brush her teeth. One time it was there, the next it wasn’t.</p><p>They didn’t know it was magic, of course. Her parents mostly chalked it up to their daughter hiding these things from them. Hermione came from a long line of people in the medical field. Their whole lives were governed by irrefutable scientific facts. Her maternal grandfather was a neurosurgeon while her paternal grandmother was a pediatrician. She even had a great grandfather who was a combat medic during World War I. Thinking about it now, she remembered her father reading to her medical journals for bedtime stories in the hopes of enticing her to follow in their footsteps when she finally reached university. It wasn’t until she was six when they realized that something was really going on with their only child and that their dreams of their daughter becoming a doctor someday might not come to pass.</p><p>Her maternal grandmother, of all people, witnessed Hermione performing a bit of accidental magic. She had thrown a tantrum and shattered the windows and the glass chandelier in the entrance hall when she refused to accompany her grandmother to church. A frantic call to her parents was made by their housekeeper saying that she was possessed by the devil.</p><p>In hindsight, she couldn’t blame them. It was the most likely explanation.</p><p>Her parents came home to a crying child standing in the middle of the entrance hall, a halo of broken shards of glass surrounded her while the staff and her Nana, who clutched her crucifix necklace in fear, stood on the far end of the room. Hermione’s parents initially refused to believe that something as fragile as a child was capable of such a feat but when her accidental magic started happening more frequently, they had begun to worry. A full body examination was made a day after she had exploded a jar of cookies just because her mother refused to give her another one but the test results yielded no answer as to what was afflicting their daughter. Her Nana even brought a priest home one day to perform an exorcism when Hermione had burst all the light bulbs in the library when she refused to go to bed without a bedtime story.</p><p>It went on for three years and her parents had chosen to medicate her, figuring that these unexplained circumstances only happened when she was under a great amount of stress. She hated it so much. The pills had dulled her senses and usually left her in a daze. By the time Hermione was ten, she had finally managed to control her temper, but the damage was done and her relationship with her parents was stilted. Gone were the warm embraces and soft kisses. Her parents had her homeschooled until her eleventh birthday arrived.</p><p>The family’s butler, Bernard, had escorted an old man inside the Granger estate and into her father’s study. Hermione could perfectly recall the man wearing an outdated style of a three-piece suit, a patterned scarf hung loosely over his shoulders while a purple coat dangled over his left arm. His eyes twinkled with wonder and he had conjured a handful of soft pink tulips from thin air which he then gave to Hermione before entering his father’s study.</p><p>Hermione would soon figure out that the old man in the strange suit was none other than Albus Dumbledore himself. She didn’t know whether to feel such pride or dread that the Headmaster of Hogwarts sought to personally deliver her acceptance letter. According to Harry, the only other person who Dumbledore met in person was the Dark Lord himself.</p><p>The relief though on her parents’ faces was evident. Dumbledore had patiently and expertly answered her parents’ every question. They finally had an answer to what was happening with their daughter although they weren’t overjoyed in the notion that their only child was most likely going to give up her Muggle heritage in favor of embracing her magical one. She even overheard her father ask Dumbledore if there was a way for her ‘magical abilities’ to be removed completely.</p><p>At the time, Hermione considered it something as trivial as extracting a decaying tooth. She hadn’t fully understood the implications of her father’s question but now….</p><p>She reached out and turned down her parents' photo face down. Hermione had shoved it a little forcefully. She was briefly worried she might have broken the frame but she found that she hardly care about it. <em>It does not do to dwell on the past.</em></p><p>Hermione made a brief stop to her bedroom to make sure everything she needed was in her beaded bag—a Christmas gift from her mother three years ago. There was a stuffed animal sitting on her vanity and Hermione had put it inside her bag. She had turned one of her old toys into an illegal portkey that will transport her back here. Hermione made it just in case of an emergency and she needed to make a quick getaway. Portkeys, after all, were untraceable, unlike apparitions where a person will leave traces of their magical signature.</p><p>She took in the room one last time, compartmentalizing every memory in the back of her mind. When everything was settled, she made her way downstairs and into the entrance hall where Bernard was waiting.</p><p>“All set?” he asked.</p><p>She nodded in affirmation. “Are you sure you don’t want to be obliviated, Bernard? They might come looking for you.”</p><p>“They might, but I don’t think they would go as far as search the United States just to capture an insignificant old man.”</p><p>“You’re not insignificant,” Hermione protested. “I probably would’ve been locked up in an institution if you had told my parents about my ‘episodes’ while they were gone. You’re important to me, Bernard.”</p><p>The kind butler who had served the Granger family since her father was just a young boy smiled sadly at her. He had grown to care for the young Granger like she was his own and he was proud of the strong, intelligent woman she had become now.</p><p>“Can I get a final hug at least?” he asked.</p><p>Hermione closed the distance without hesitation and wrapped her arms around Bernard. He smelled of freshly brewed coffee and warm earth on a sunrise. It smelled like home. “I’m glad I didn’t obliviate you.”</p><p>“I’m glad as well,” the butler returned the hug. “When this is all over… if you still want me to work for you, I’d be happy to return.”</p><p>Hermione pulled back to smile at him. “Of course, you’re always welcome, Bernard. I can’t run this house without you.”</p><p>“Be safe, Miss Granger,” Bernard ruffled her curls affectionately. “If you need any help, you know how to contact me.”</p><p>He had let go of her and headed for the gates where a taxi was waiting for him on the other side.</p><p>Aside from her parents, Hermione had also obliviated the entire household staff save for Bernard who had asked Hermione to allow him to keep his memories. She had relented in exchange for him moving out of the country somewhere far away the Death Eaters wouldn’t reach him.</p><p>She glanced around the place once more and felt tears pricked her eyes. It wasn’t out of sadness but out of guilt. She felt guilty for feeling a sense of consolation. Hermione had loved her parents dearly and was extremely grateful to them for providing everything she could need when she began studying at Hogwarts but she couldn’t prevent the feeling of relief washing over her when she had finished removing every trace of her presence from their life. Hermione wondered if they will try to have another child and a sob escaped her throat at the thought that they will probably love the child even more than they did her if it turned out to be a Muggle like them.</p><p>Hermione wiped her eyes hastily before she stepped outside. She then pulled out her wand and shakily lifted it towards the house. She cast a few Muggle repelling charms and a few disillusionment charms to prevent magical people from wandering around the area.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Hermione pictured the front doors of Grimmauld Place. Alastor Moody had requested a final meeting before they went over to Privet Drive tomorrow to retrieve Harry and transport him to a safe house. Molly Weasley had tried to dissuade her and Ron from participating in the skirmish but she insisted that the Order needed all the help they can get. That Harry’s safety mattered the most in the grand scheme of things.</p><p>She soon felt the sickening pull of disapparition and Hermione instantly vanished, only leaving a faint gust of wind in her wake.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>JULY 30, 1997.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Lucius Malfoy stood alone facing the fireplace inside his study. He watched mesmerized as the dull red and orange flames flickered unpredictably against the stone hearth. It was never warm enough for him. Somehow, the bleak coldness of Azkaban seemed to have seeped into his bones and settled there uncomfortably. <em>Azkaban</em>. A stark reminder of how far he had fallen out of grace from everything and everyone. The society, his peers, the Dark Lord, and even his family.</p><p>Especially his family.</p><p>His wife walked on eggshells around him like he’s some wild beast likely to be provoked at the nearest physical interaction while his son couldn’t stand to be in his presence and had resorted to taking his meals in his room. It hurt more than he would like to admit. Draco was Lucius’ pride and joy. His chance to redeem himself through his son. Lucius sought to raise his only child differently than the one every Pureblood family was accustomed to but his father made sure that Draco grew up to be the typical Malfoy heir: full of hate and arrogance even at such a young age. If Abraxas was alive right now, Lucius was sure he would receive at least twenty lashes across the back and at least three days of starvation in the dungeons just like what his father always did when he was young.</p><p>After Albus Dumbledore was murdered, the Dark Lord broke all his followers out of Azkaban including Lucius himself. At that time, he had wondered why and it was only when Lucius arrived home that he realized his death would’ve been considered mercy for the Dark Lord. And everyone knew that the Dark Lord didn’t bestow mercy. His family became the laughingstock of every meeting, a cautionary tale for the other Death Eaters should they decide to fail their tasks.</p><p>Lucius sought to blame the children for his current predicament but he couldn’t bring himself to. They were only children—Potter and his miserable, pathetic band of friends. They only did what they assumed was right at the time when they stormed the Department of Mysteries. They were merely pawns in the game. That was why he refused to lift a wand to them, unlike all his <em>comrades</em>. He was many things but he wouldn’t stoop so low as to harm a child, no matter how infuriating they may be.</p><p>It was his hubris that led to his downfall. Like Icarus that flew too close to the sun, Lucius volunteered to lead the attack even though he knew that straightforward incursions were never his forte. He had excelled in underhanded tactics such as gleaming information through torture and untraceable bribery or manipulating the law to his advantage. He had always kept his hands—or in this case, his wand—clean.</p><p>The first punishment began in the form of a visit from his colleague during the third month of his incarceration. Severus informed Lucius that his failure to secure the prophecy and his hesitation to maim helpless children incensed the Dark Lord greatly and had resulted in his son taking the mark. As if that wasn’t enough, Draco was then tasked to kill Dumbledore with the Dark Lord hoping that Draco would be killed in the attempt, cutting off the Malfoy line completely. It was only due to his wife’s quick thinking that somehow, his son was perfectly alive and well—physically. Lucius can only imagine the trauma Draco was going through right now.</p><p>He had punched the jagged walls of his cell repeatedly until he couldn’t feel his hands anymore, his knuckles shattered and profusely bleeding. If given the choice, he would take a thousand Cruciatus curse gladly just to spare his son the burden of taking the Dark Mark but that had not been the case. Once you signed up with the Dark Lord, your choices were limited. It was a lifetime of servitude. Death was your only way out.</p><p>Lucius realized then that the fight was never about the importance of blood status and the preservation of magical purity. The Dark Lord’s pretty words were only meant to entice people like the Malfoys into supporting him. Light and dark. Pureblood and Mudbloods. Everything was a lie.</p><p>It was always about power.</p><p>You only need to look to the past to figure it out. Grindelwald. Voldemort. Their lust for power was disguised under the cloak of blood supremacy. They were all the same, even Dumbledore. There was never good or evil.</p><p>Right or wrong.</p><p>Only power.</p><p>And Lucius hated himself for falling prey to it. For being a stupid puppet to a monomaniacal overlord. And now he had doomed his family.</p><p>A knock on the door interrupted his musings. It was either, his wife or Severus. Everyone else just barged in like they owned the place.</p><p>“Enter.”</p><p>The doors creaked open and there stood Narcissa, his wife of twenty years.</p><p>Lucius couldn’t bring himself to ask what happened while he was gone for over a year. He couldn’t face the guilt of her unspoken words. Although Narcissa had never mentioned anything, Lucius still noticed and the shame had been eating him away. He had sworn to protect her and their son but he failed spectacularly. There were more lines on her face now while her crystal blue eyes had lost its usual sharpness. Her constant worry about Draco’s safety while playing hostess to a mercurial madman definitely took its toll on her.</p><p>“What is it, Cissa?”</p><p>Narcissa went to his desk and poured herself a finger of firewhiskey. She twirled the glass before taking a sip. Lately, they had resorted to drowning out their sorrows with alcohol.</p><p>“I want Draco to stay in Hogwarts.”</p><p>Lucius’ brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you wanted him to be homeschooled for the final year?”</p><p>Even though Severus had been named as Headmaster following Dumbledore’s death, Narcissa considered it wise to have Draco finish his final year here at the Manor. She was afraid students who looked up to the late Headmaster would take out their anger on Draco. <em>They had every right to,</em> Lucius thought darkly. But it didn’t stop the heavy feeling from settling in his chest. If only he had secured the damn prophecy.</p><p>His wife glanced at the door warily before pulling her wand out to cast a few privacy charms. She then stepped closer and stood a foot away beside Lucius, her eyes trained to the fire.</p><p>“It’s not safe. Not if <em>he’s</em> here,” she hissed, her voice low and cutting. “It’s better if Draco is far away from him. At least Severus will ensure no harm would come to our son.”</p><p>Lucius felt his chest tighten more at the implication. He couldn’t even protect his son under his home. As much as he wanted Draco close to him, he had to admit that his son would be far safer if he continued his education in Hogwarts. He trusted Severus—hell, even McGonagall—to keep Draco out of harm’s way.</p><p>He must’ve made a face because Narcissa took a step closer and reached for his hand. “I don’t blame you, Lucius, and I don’t think you’re incapable. I know what we signed up for but we’re practically a pariah in our own home now. He treats us like we’re less than servants. He even took your wand!”</p><p>The last sentence was spoken with much more venom than Lucius deemed Narcissa was capable of. He squeezed her back in reassurance, trying to find some semblance of comfort in her soft, steady hands.</p><p>Their last gathering had ended up with the Dark Lord taking Lucius’ wand and had used it to murder the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts. Charity Burbage. She was a half-blood if Lucius recalled correctly. Watching her there sprawled in the middle of their dining table, limbs bent in odd angles as Nagini slowly devoured her dead body sealed the notion in Lucius’ mind that everyone was just collateral damage in the Dark Lord’s quest for power. Pureblood, half-blood, or Muggleborn. They were all just cannon fodder to him.</p><p>But then an idea occurred to Lucius. And how he wished the idea never crossed his mind at all for even considering it would result in their immediate expiration especially now that the Order was on the losing side after their leader’s untimely demise. But the idea kept persisting inside his mind now, like maggots infesting every inch of his brain until he can no longer ignore it.</p><p>Lucius looked away from his wife to the flickering flames in front of him. It was no use. Even if he did try to switch sides, he doubted the Light would take him and his family. He used to be the Dark Lord’s lieutenant while his son had been an accessory to Dumbledore's murder. The Order would probably kill them just to spare them the trouble.</p><p>“What’s on your mind, Lucius?” Narcissa tugged his hand gently.</p><p>“Nothing, my dear. I was—” he yanked his hand back as he hissed in pain. Lucius raised the sleeves of his shirt to see the Dark Mark glowing a faint green light. <em>That’s not good.</em></p><p>“Is it a meeting again?” she asked, her expression filled with worry.</p><p>“No. It’s a private summon,” Lucius couldn’t help the fear lacing his tone.</p><p>“This is the first time he has called for you privately since… since your last mission,” Narcissa gripped his hand tighter but not tight enough to bruise. “I’m worried, Lucius.”</p><p>“Don’t be. He probably just wants to humiliate me.” <em>Or torture, </em>he added grimly. The Dark Lord was in a bad mood tonight. He’d found out from Avery an hour ago that they had failed in killing Potter during the ambush. Mulciber and Goyle were injured but fortunately, no one was killed. Lucius can’t say the same about the Light. Bellatrix had bragged in the drawing-room that the Dark Lord had killed the paranoid Auror, Alastor Moody.</p><p>But as long as the Dark Lord’s attention was on him and not on his family, Lucius was fine with that. He can endure being the Dark Lord’s punching bag tonight.</p><p>“I should go,” he said softly to his wife.</p><p>He could tell Narcissa was reluctant to let his hand go but she did eventually. The more he stayed here, the more anxious he will be. And it was never wise to delay a summon. Lucius lifted his wife’s hand and planted a kiss on top of her knuckles before leaving the comfort of his study to find the Dark Lord.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The halls of the Manor were eerily quiet as Lucius made his way to the drawing-room. Most of his fellow Death Eaters had gone to their respective homes and maybe, a year ago, just before he was sent to Azkaban, Lucius would gladly welcome the absence of his ill-mannered comrades but now he wished at least some of them were here. The stillness of the Manor belied the mood of its <em>honorary</em> guest and having someone other than Lucius and his family would at least redirect the Dark Lord’s wrath away from them.</p><p>There was a point where Lucius had loved this place. It was during the summer holiday when he was fourteen and his father was away in Dresden for a month. The Manor had never looked so alive back then. The roses and daisies in the gardens were in full bloom while the house oozed a sense of tranquility. He had spent most of the days reading in the pavilion with his mother or riding across the property while his nights comprised of staying up late playing wizards chess with Varka, his mother’s house-elf. Lucius had wished then that things could stay like that indefinitely but it was a lesson he soon realized. All good things must come to an end.</p><p>The huge double doors groaned as Lucius pushed them open. His eyes scanned the room and found the imposing figuring of the Dark Lord gazing out the windows, his back to Lucius. The pet snake was nowhere in sight but he noticed a shedded skin was lying in a corner of the room. He made a mental note to make the elves dispose of it once the Dark Lord retired to his chambers for the night.</p><p>“My Lord, you called,” Lucius went down on one knee a few feet away. He rested his palms face down on the floor to stop them from shaking out of fear.</p><p>Seconds passed and the Dark Lord still didn’t move to acknowledge him. Lucius wondered if he heard him and was about to clear his throat to call him again when the Dark Lord finally turned around, glittering red eyes bored into his dull grey ones. Lucius lowered his head in false reverence.</p><p>“Lucius Malfoy,” the Dark Lord spoke his name in a sibilant manner. Lucius watched from the corner of his eye as the Dark Lord strolled around him in circles. “Are you aware of what happened with the ambush hours ago?”</p><p>“Y-yes, my Lord,” Lucius said, almost in a whisper but the room carried his voice like an echo. “Avery had informed me.”</p><p>“Informed you,” the Dark Lord repeated and Lucius couldn’t gauge what his Master’s reaction was. After a moment, he felt the Dark Lord stop a foot away from him. “Then you know that your wand is as useless as its owner.”</p><p>Lucius bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. <em>I don’t think I’m the owner of that wand anymore.</em> “Yes, my Lord.”</p><p>He heard fabric rustling and Lucius nearly jumped out of his skin when his <em>master</em> threw his former wand ahead of him. It clattered noisily and rolled until it reached his knee. There were large cracks that nearly bisected the wand and Lucius fought the urge to touch it. He can still remember Ollivander’s words the day he received his wand over thirty years ago.</p><p>
  <em>“Eighteen inches, dragon heartstring, elm. Powerful indeed. Most curious…” the wandmaker trailed off. “There’s another wand here that came from the same core. Twins. Definitely a rare occurrence but I wonder who the other recipient will be.”</em>
</p><p>Lucius had always wondered if someone had finally claimed the other wand. Twin cores were a very rare occurrence in the wizarding world, and neither can harm the other but their power would increase tenfold if the two should join forces. The only other people he knew who possessed a wand with twin cores were the Dark Lord and Potter. Lucius found it ironic that the Dark Lord had borrowed another wand with a twin.</p><p>“Pick up your wand, Lucius,” the Dark Lord ordered. “You will need it for this task.”</p><p>Lucius momentarily stilled at his words. <em>A task? Cissa was right.</em> He tentatively picked up his broken wand and felt a glimmer of magic slowly ebb through his veins. At least the wand still recognized him. Lucius had to wonder if the wand’s refusal to completely accept the Dark Lord as its owner was the reason why it lost to Potter’s wand.</p><p>“A task, my Lord?”</p><p>“Yes, Lucius, a task,” he snapped. “Do try to keep up.”</p><p>It was taking a lot of effort not to hurl the wand in his master’s direction. If he didn’t have a family to protect right now, Lucius would’ve gone and tackled the man to the ground and beat him bloody senseless with his own bare hands until that pathetic excuse of a nose completely disappeared from his slimy face. It was worth dying for.</p><p>“I had intended to end Harry Potter’s life tonight while he still has the Trace on him but unfortunately, unexpected situations have prevented me from accomplishing this bothersome chore. The boy will turn seventeen this midnight and the Trace will be gone by then, making it harder for me to locate him. I assume that the Order will hide him in a safe house. But I realize that instead of fruitlessly chasing the boy, why not make him come to me on his own will?” the Dark Lord then halted in front of Lucius. “And this is where you enter, my slippery friend.”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>Lucius heard the doors creaked open and felt all the blood drain from his face when he discerned the unmistakable terrified voice of his son.</p><p>“My L-Lord?”</p><p>“Ahh, Draco. So good of you to join us,” the Dark Lord ushered Draco in. Uncertain footsteps reverberated all over the room and Lucius fought the urge to turn his head back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco stop a few feet beside him and kneel before the Dark Lord, consciously avoiding Lucius’ worried look.</p><p>“As I was saying to your father,” the Dark Lord continued his pacing in front of his two followers. “It would be impossible to track Potter now that the Trace will disappear in a few hours so I have decided to lure him to us instead.”</p><p>“What are you proposing, my Lord?” Lucius looked up then.</p><p>“It has come to my knowledge that the blood traitor Weasleys are hosting a wedding tomorrow and that Potter will be in attendance. Pius has informed me that Rufus Scrimgeour has wasted no expense and assigned nearly every Auror on guard duty to watch over the boy, leaving the Ministry vulnerable to a hostile takeover. It would be remiss of me not to take advantage of that opening,” the Dark Lord laid a hand on his chest in mockery.</p><p>“You want me to hold a coup?”</p><p>“That will be Pius’ task. I plan on installing him as Minister for Magic once he succeeds in killing Scrimgeour. No, Lucius. My task for you will be much greater than that and since young Draco here has proven himself remarkably skillful, I also require him to take part.”</p><p>Lucius didn’t like where this was going but he swallowed the proverbial lump in his throat and stared at the Dark Lord, determined. This was his second chance to make everything right for his family. “I am deeply honored, my Lord. I will not fail you.”</p><p>“You better not, Lucius, for your entire family will extremely suffer the consequences this time,” the Dark Lord threatened him. Lucius caught the sharp intake of breath at his side but he still didn’t dare glance in Draco’s direction. <em>Don’t let him see you afraid.</em> “But don’t you fret, my faithful servant. The task is rather easy but requires a rather blunt approach. Take as many men as you see fit. I want you to assail said wedding and abduct someone. Everyone will be quite distracted in protecting the boy, leaving this person open and unguarded.”</p><p>“Who, my Lord?”</p><p>“Harry Potter’s Mudblood friend, Hermione Granger.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are very much appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Uninvited Guests</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy new year everyone! Massive thanks for the kudos and comments on the first chapter. I wanted to post this before the year ended but I got so busy with the hols.</p><p>I actually intended for this fic to be a Hermione only first person POV journal style. I just finished reading The Martian when we watched DH and I was inspired by it. I already wrote the first chapter back then but decided to throw it out and started a new one in this format.</p><p>Anyway, without further ado: the second chapter. *tadaa*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>UNINVITED GUESTS.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>AUGUST 1, 1997.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The wedding was a simple ceremony followed by a lively reception. After Bill and Fleur had exchanged vows and a kiss, the wizard presiding over the ceremony asked the guests to rise from their seats. Mr. Weasley summoned cloth-covered tables to the side while Charlie magically arranged the chairs to surround them in a swift synchronized movement that amazed Harry. The canvas flaps that surrounded the marquee had vanished, leaving only the large canopy that was supported by gold-colored poles that matched the wedding decors. The guests all cooed and ahh-ed as the interior was bathed with the warm glow of the fading sun while the band that played the wedding march was now performing a boisterous song number.</p><p>Harry sat alone on the far end of the orchard with his hands inside his front pockets as he observed the afternoon festivity. The Order thought it wise to Polyjuice him to look like one of the Weasleys' relatives since they didn’t trust everyone in attendance to not let anything slip once alcohol was involved. Harry didn’t like it, but he grudgingly acquiesced. Maybe it was better that people didn’t know he was here. Death followed him everywhere he went.</p><p>The tips of his fingers touched Hermione’s birthday gift to him, a sneakoscope, and the golden snitch Dumbledore had bequeathed to him in his will. These two items had taken the place of honor in his pocket, previously occupied by the Marauder’s Map and the fake locket which now resided inside the drawstring pouch Hagrid had given him. It had only been yesterday, on the morning of his seventeenth birthday, that the Minister for Magic arrived accompanied by Mr. Weasley and requested that he speak to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It came as a surprise to everyone when Rufus Scrimgeour said that the late Headmaster had even included Ron and Hermione in his will.</p><p>
  <em>You were not aware then that Dumbledore had left you anything?</em>
</p><p>No, Harry had not been aware. In fact, he had not been aware of a lot of things in his life. But it still came even more of a shock when Scrimgeour told him that there was a second bequest. The Sword of Gryffindor. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Dumbledore’s to give away, hence the reason why Scrimgeour confiscated it for examination, a supposed ‘fact’ that was intensely contested by Hermione. Threats were exchanged between Harry and the Minister and the tension was only diffused by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s timely arrival.</p><p>The interaction left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth and only intensified his dislike for the Ministry.</p><p>He had been feeling on edge since that night the Order whisked him away from his childhood home to a new safe house. All he ever wanted was to be alone even for an hour. But ever since he arrived at the Burrow, he never had a moment of peace. There was always someone breathing down his neck. Even Ron whose presence he normally didn’t mind had started to grate on his nerves.</p><p>But now that he was alone, Harry felt morose more than ever.</p><p>He had to wonder how they could be happy at a time like this let alone have a wedding. They lost so many people in such a small period. Dumbledore’s murder was still fresh in his mind and now Mad-Eye Moody died protecting him. Harry didn’t even want to think about Hedwig who had been his companion and one great link to the magical world whenever he had been forced to return to the Dursleys for the summer.</p><p>Hedwig who laid motionless and pathetic as a toy on the floor of her cage when the killing curse missed Harry and hit her instead. Whose cage exploded when he was forced to blow Hagrid’s falling sidecar.</p><p>Harry sat on the cold hard floor of the Weasleys’ bathroom that night, dry heaving as the news finally sunk in. How many more had to die because of him? Because some stupid prophecy declared him to be the chosen one? He wasn’t a skilled fighter like Kingsley, nor as smart as Hermione. Harry had gotten by mostly on pure luck and by the skin of his teeth. Why him? What was so special about him? The only reason he survived that night was that his mother sacrificed her life for him. Snape was right. Harry was weak and pathetic.</p><p>That helplessness was amplified by Mrs. Weasley’s insistence that he stayed here in the Burrow where they could keep him safe when all Harry wanted was to leave and disappear and continue whatever it was that Dumbledore had asked of him so Voldemort would leave the people he cared about alone.</p><p>At that last thought, Harry’s eyes drifted to the dance floor where Ginny was dancing with Luna. She was wearing a light lilac-colored dress the made her baby blue eyes pop. His mind wandered to yesterday again. After Scrimgeour had left, they resumed Harry’s small birthday party and once everyone had their fill of the cake, Ginny stealthily pulled him aside and led him to the basement, giving Harry his birthday gift.</p><p>
  <em>Something to remember me by when you leave.</em>
</p><p>The kiss felt more of a permanent goodbye than a temporary parting gift and Harry fought the urge to break down and cry because he wanted to stay in Ginny’s arms but at the same time, he wanted to cut off ties with her for good. He told her after they discarded the Half-Blood Prince’s book in the Room of Hidden Things that he can’t continue the relationship anymore. That she deserved so much better, a future that was free and unencumbered, and staying attached to him would only bring her much pain and misery. He remembered how she’d kissed him softly, telling him that she’s not mad at him.</p><p>Harry shook his head to try and get rid of images of Ginny walking down the aisle towards a different man, one who didn’t have a cursed lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He spied Ron sulking on the far corner of the marquee, his eyes trained on the couple dancing near Ginny and Luna. Hermione looked radiant in her burgundy skater dress with matching high heels. Her soft curls flowed freely as Viktor Krum twirled her around the dance floor.</p><p>Harry wondered if Hermione also felt conflicted about her feelings for Ron. His two friends had just reconciled before Dumbledore’s death but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Ron and Hermione fought again. And by the look on his friend’s face, an argument was bound to happen before this party ended.</p><p>After taking a sandwich from a passing waiter, Harry made his way around the edge of the crowded dance floor, carefully avoiding bumping into George who was dancing with one of Fleur’s Veela cousins.</p><p>“Wotcher, Harry,” said a familiar voice and Harry stopped himself just in time before colliding with his former DADA professor. Tonks was standing beside her husband, a glass of champagne in one hand. “Arthur told us you’re the one with the curly hair.”</p><p>“Hello, Tonks, Professor.”</p><p>“Call me Remus, Harry. I haven’t been your professor in ages,” Lupin gave him a small smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever be a professor again.”</p><p>“Cheer up, luv. I’m sure Hogwarts would welcome you back once this is over,” Tonks nudged him in the side. She then turned her attention to Harry. “I hope you liked our gift, Harry. I’m sorry Remus and I couldn’t attend. The Ministry’s being very anti-werewolf at the moment and we thought our presence might not do you any favors.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” he smiled gratefully. Last night, when Harry was about to head upstairs, Mr. Weasley handed him a package wrapped in a simple brown paper with a note attached to it. <em>Happy birthday, Harry. From T&amp;R.</em> It was a Gryffindor scarf but what made it special was the initials stitched at the bottom of it: JFP. It was his father’s scarf. “Thank you for the gift.”</p><p>“I found it in my old school trunk while Tonks and I were cleaning up the house,” Lupin explained. “James gave it to me when I lost my scarf and I know it’s a little bit worn out but I figured you still might want it since it’s your father’s. I think I’m too old now to be wearing Hogwarts house co—”</p><p>The rest of his speech was lost as Harry propelled himself forward and hugged the two, nearly spilling the contents of Tonks’ champagne glass all over him. He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps Lupin and Tonks understood them because Tonks patted his cheek clumsily when Harry released them while Lupin squeezed his arm.</p><p>“You take care of yourself, Harry,” Tonks beamed at him before dragging her husband away to get another refill of their drinks.</p><p>Harry continued wandering around the crowd until he spotted an old wizard sitting alone at a table. The wizard was wearing a red, moth-eaten fez atop tuffs of thin, puffy, white hair. Harry wondered if magical people tended to get odder the more they age. He was about to turn around and make a beeline for Ron when he realized that the old wizard was Elphias Doge, member of the Order of the Phoenix and the one who wrote Dumbledore’s heartfelt obituary.</p><p>It probably couldn’t hurt to make his presence known to another Order member. Taking a deep breath, Harry decided to approach him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Your friend is not pleased to see me,” Viktor said as he gave Hermione another twirl, catching her waist just in time. It felt familiar, the way his large hand settled on her hips as they swayed to the music.</p><p>She looked across his shoulder to see Ron looking murderously at them. When she caught his eye, Ron quickly shifted his gaze away, his ears turning the same shade as his hair. Hermione shook her head in disbelief. Friend. Such an odd word to describe Ron’s standing in Hermione’s life. “He’s just surprised to see you. He’s been a huge fan,” Hermione replied. It was partially true. Ron was a big fan of Viktor Krum before.</p><p>It was like being transported back to their fourth year during the Triwizard tournament. Back then, Ron had fawned over Viktor much more than the girls did until the Bulgarian Seeker decided to ask her out to Yule Ball. She didn’t know if Ron was jealous of Viktor or her. Ginny once mentioned that it was probably both.</p><p>Truth be told, Hermione didn’t know where she stood with Ron now. Their relationship had improved considerably after his split with Lavender but it was far from romantic either.</p><p>
  <em>Friend.</em>
</p><p>They were friends, alright, but was there a possibility of it becoming more? Every time Hermione thought they were becoming more than that, something would happen and all the progress they made would come crashing down. Each fight would become worse than the last and Hermione was worried that something bad would happen soon that might deem even their friendship irreparable.</p><p>Her musings were cut short when Hermione felt Viktor tensed in front of her. “What is it, Viktor?”</p><p>“Who is that man in the yellow?” he asked with a scowl on his face.</p><p>Hermione turned her head to see an eccentric-looking wizard wearing an eye-watering shade of egg-yolk yellow chatting with several warlocks on the other side of the marquee. He had shoulder-length white hair that looked like it hadn’t been touched by a hairbrush in decades. Hermione thought he looked like the polar opposite of Lucius Malfoy whose hair was as immaculate as his clothes.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luna approached the wizard. Hermione observed as the wizard leaned down to press a kiss on the top of Luna’s head and that was when Hermione made out the resemblance. This must be her father.</p><p>“That’s Luna’s father, Xenophilius Lovegood. Luna is a good friend of ours.”</p><p>“You know this Lovegood vell?”</p><p>“I’d like to think I know Luna quite well but I can’t say the same about her father. I’ve only seen him today,” Hermione noticed Viktor had glided them closer to the Lovegoods. “Why do you ask, Viktor?”</p><p>“Because he’s a disrespectful vizard for vearing that filthy sign upon his chest,” Viktor growled in a thick Bulgarian accent that surprised Hermione. She had never seen him this furious before. Sure, there were a handful of times he got pissed during the tournament but it was nothing compared to now. Viktor was practically seething. “I vould duel him right now if he is not a guest of Fleur’s.”</p><p>Hermione tightened her hold on his hand and shoulder. “Sign?” she said, looking over at Xenophilius. Her eye caught something glinting from the golden chain around his neck. It was an odd logo, rather like an outline of the eye of providence symbol with a line bisecting it in the middle. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”</p><p>“Grindelvald. That is Grindelvald’s sign.”</p><p>Hermione gasped. “The Dark wizard Dumbledore defeated?”</p><p>Krum tersely nodded, his jaw muscles worked as if he was chewing blocks of stones. “Your people never feared him because you had Dumbledore but Grindelvald killed many of my people. My grandfather died fighting him. That symbol, I recognized it immediately. Grindelvald carved it into a vall at Durmstrang ven he vos a student there. I know because I valked past that sign for several years. Some idiots copied it onto their books thinking it vas cool, until those of us who had lost family members to Grindelvald taught them better.”</p><p>“Oh, Viktor. I’m so sorry,” Hermione squeezed the hand she was holding as she tried to maneuver him away from the Lovegoods. “Xenophilius has probably no clue what the symbol really means. The Lovegoods are quite an unusual family but they mean good.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>They were now on the far side of the dancefloor and Hermione spotted Harry’s Polyjuiced self, sitting across an old wizard. They both seemed to be in an intense discussion with Ron’s Aunt Muriel. Hermione nodded distractedly at her dance partner. “I’m sure. They’re good people.”</p><p>“Okay. I trust you, Hermy-own-ninny.”</p><p>Hermione returned her focus to Viktor when she heard the familiar mispronunciation of her name, remembering that time in the Yule Ball when she’d taught him how to correctly say it. A fond smile appeared on her face at the memory.</p><p>
  <em>“Her-my-oh-nee,” she said each syllable slowly and clearly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor tried, his brows scrunched together in concentration.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Close enough,” Hermione sighed in resignation.</em>
</p><p>She’d never found him physically attractive before. Viktor was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large, curved nose and thick black eyebrows—completely different from Gilderoy Lockhart’s well-polished look and Sirius Black’s chaotically rugged appearance. But what Viktor lacked in the physical department, he made up for in his passion and natural talent for Quidditch—something she appreciated more. Hermione remembered how he moved so easily through the air as if gravity itself was bending over backward for him. Unsupported and weightless, he hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all. She used to think that you only needed to be physically agile for the sport but when Hermione saw him in the Quidditch World Cup, she developed a newfound respect for the sport she used to ignore.</p><p>After the disastrous Triwizard tournament, Viktor had invited her to his hometown in Bulgaria for the summer. Her parents had allowed her to stay for a week only and it was more than Hermione could hope for but that week with him had been one of her happiest. By the time she had returned to London, Hermione had felt confused about her feelings for Ron and Viktor but as her sixth year went on, her feelings for Ron had overcome whatever possibility she had imagined with Viktor. Halfway through the year, they had ceased communication.</p><p>“You seemed distracted. Did I say something wrong?”</p><p>“No, no,” Hermione smiled reassuringly although he did pronounce her name wrong again. But she’d accepted it now—was even fond of it. She felt like it was his term of endearment to her. “I was just remembering Yule Ball.”</p><p>“Ahh,” was his only reply, a small smile on his lips.</p><p>Right on cue, the music had ended and Hermione excused herself but not before promising Viktor another dance before the night ended. She watched him amble through the crowd towards the bride and groom before she went to the opposite direction where she last saw Harry who was disguised as a distant Weasley cousin.</p><p>He was still sitting beside the old wizard but both were red in the face. Hermione guessed that it wasn’t from the champagne. Her eyes landed on Aunt Muriel who Hermione now realized was talking about Dumbledore.</p><p>“The Dumbledores lived in Godric’s Hollow?” she heard Harry asked, the shock was clearly written all over his Polyjuiced face. His parents had also lived in Godric’s Hollow and all this time, Dumbledore had never mentioned anything about it.</p><p>“Yes, Barry, that’s what I just said,” said Auntie Muriel testily.</p><p>Hermione pulled a chair beside him but Harry didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were staring straight ahead but weren’t really seeing what was in front of him. He had always hated being kept in the dark, being treated like he was still the bullied kid sleeping under the stairs. It reminded him so much of how the Dursleys treated him back when he didn’t know he was a wizard. She had planned on telling him about what she had learned about Grindelwald but decided to reach out her hand to his instead, her voice low and gentle as to not be overheard. “Harry, are you okay?”</p><p>Her gesture snapped him out of his stupor and Harry looked at Hermione, his bright, green eyes seemed slightly out of focus still. Like he was trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. He opened his mouth, then closed it before opening it again but whatever he was about to say was cut off when something large and silvery came falling through the large canopy, landing directly in the middle of the dance floor. Everyone had stopped whatever it was they were doing and glanced at the gleaming lynx. Hermione’s heart started hammering inside her chest. She knew whose Patronus it belonged to. The lynx then opened its mouth as wide as it could and spoke, the voice that came out was slow and deep. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice.</p><p>“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The night slithered in chillingly like a Dementor on a hunt while Lucius stood hidden a short distance away from the Weasleys’ small property as he waited for the signal from Pius. After he had left the Dark Lord’s presence the other night, he had immediately assembled an army of forty Death Eaters. Some of them were from the inner circle like Avery, Rosier, Nott, and the younger Lestrange who had eagerly agreed for a chance to impress their master while the others were mostly freshly recruits. Expendables, as the Dark Lord would say although Lucius would be inclined to disagree. All of them were expendable in the Dark Lord’s eyes.</p><p>Lucius’ instructions to his subordinates were quite simple that even a toddler could do it: distract the Aurors and divert the Order’s attention away from the Mudblood by attempting to converge on Potter. As soon as the girl was on her own, he and Draco would whisk her away back to the Malfoy dungeons where she would stay as bait. It didn’t matter what kind of distraction his soldiers would do as long as they got the job done although he had forbidden them to kill any innocent bystander especially if it was one of them. A Pureblood. There was no need to spill such an untainted line.</p><p>His eyes then landed on his son, Draco, who stood on the very side with a grim look on his face, his wand clutched tightly by his side. Narcissa had begged Lucius to run away that night he told her about the task; had asked him to flee to another country where the Dark Lord wouldn’t reach them but Lucius insisted that nowhere was safe. No matter where they went, the Dark Lord would find them and absolutely kill them on the spot. No, it was better this way. If the mission was a success tonight, Lucius would soon gain his standing again as the Dark Lord’s second in command. The Malfoy name wouldn’t be ridiculed anymore and maybe—just maybe—his son would come to respect and look up to him just like Draco used to.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Lucius caught sight of a swirling black mass heading towards their direction. He straightened his posture, drawing himself higher, and pretended to brush off an imaginary lint on his robes. This would be it, the signal.</p><p>The noncorporeal figure came closer and closer until it landed ahead of him and he was surprised to see Antonin Dolohov materializing, his manic, dark eyes gleaming in excitement. He had expected Pius to send a rookie, not him.</p><p>“I take it everything went well in the Ministry?”</p><p>“Oh, yes, it did. Scrimgeour is dead courtesy of <em>moi</em>,” Antonin gave a mocking bow and everyone behind Lucius cheered and hooted. “I volunteered to deliver the news and to participate in this skirmish. I find myself still feeling restless.”</p><p>Lucius clenched his fists tight, his nails nearly drawing blood. Antonin can be a bit of a loose cannon and he and Bellatrix were the reason why they fucked up that mission in the Department of Mysteries. If they hadn’t provoked Potter, then Lucius was sure he could’ve gotten his hands on the prophecy.</p><p>“This mission is important to the Dark Lord, Antonin. He needs the Mudblood girl alive,” he snarled.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Lucy. I won’t kill her,” Antonin gave him a shit-eating grin, his crooked yellow teeth gleaming under the cloak of the night. How Lucius hated that nickname. “I’ll only give the girly a warm welcome.”</p><p>Before he could respond, a silvery vapor went flying overhead straight to the Weasleys where the canopy was erected. He watched as everyone froze when the Patronus landed in the middle, revealing an elegant lynx. He realized someone must’ve escaped the Ministry and alerted the Light ahead. Antonin gave him a deriding salute before flying over to their destination.</p><p>Lucius cursed under his breath as he turned around to face his comrades. There was no time for long speeches. He gave his son, who was looking like he would like to be anywhere else but here, a stern look before giving everyone the go signal. He donned his mask and raised his broken wand up, the one the Dark Lord had borrowed.</p><p>“My friends, it is time.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.</em>
</p><p>Hermione sat still as a statue as she watched Kingsley’s Patronus slowly fade away into obscurity. There was a deafening lull in the surrounding like a person taking a deep, full breath before screaming at the top of their lungs. She couldn’t remember who made the first move but everyone was suddenly <em>everywhere</em>. It was utter chaos. And Hermione had seen her fair share of mayhem in Hogwarts.</p><p>“This is not good,” the old wizard Harry was talking to kept shaking his head as if doing that would undo everything and bring Scrimgeour back to life. “He’s taken control of the Ministry. He—”</p><p>He was cut off by an ear-piercing screech across the marquee. Hermione watched in horror as the canopy was ripped apart and dark wisps of smoke permeated the area.</p><p>Death Eaters.</p><p>People were getting hexed left and right. Hermione even saw a flash of green light and hoped to Merlin no one was on the receiving end of that horrible spell. Harry stood rigid beside her. The effects of the Polyjuice potion will wear off soon and they needed to get out of here. She scanned her surroundings looking for Ron but she couldn’t see him among the masses running and fleeing for their lives. The old wizard was now gone, most probably had apparated once he saw the Death Eaters. She spotted Ginny nearby who was merely dancing a few minutes ago but was now dueling a masked wizard.</p><p>It seemed like this was a planned attack. Hermione had counted at least more than twenty Death Eaters inside the marquee and there were probably more battling the Aurors outside. She tugged on Harry’s sleeve, willing his friend into action.</p><p>“Harry, get it together! We need to find Ron and get out of here before they figure out who you are!” That seemed to snap him out of his trance. Harry pulled his wand and proceeded to help Ginny, sending a stunning curse to her opponent.</p><p>Hermione made her way across the large tent in search of Ron, carefully trying not to draw any attention to herself. Nearly halfway through, she saw him battling two Death Eaters and she felt her heart sank when Ron didn’t detect the incoming jet of a spell. It landed squarely on his chest and he slumped to the floor writhing in pain. The two Death Eaters advanced on to Ron, their wands trained to him and obviously going for the kill.</p><p>“No!” she howled trying to run as fast as her legs would allow but her path was suddenly blocked.</p><p>“Hello girly,” the masked Death Eater growled. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at hearing the familiar voice. Hermione knew who this was despite his face being covered by a mask. Antonin Dolohov. The one who nearly killed her in the Department of Mysteries. She didn’t have any scars but it took her an entire month to heal from his nonverbal spell.</p><p>“Did you miss me?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A curse went sailing past Lucius, nearly missing his robe by an inch. Somewhere along the pandemonium occurring around him, he had lost sight of his son and now he felt utterly defenseless and useless. His wand was barely functioning, limiting him to a handful of basic spells only a toddler could perform so he had relied on Draco to neutralize the Mudblood and transport them out of here back to the Manor.</p><p>Most of the guests had already fled, but Lucius couldn’t see the girl or Potter. He briefly wondered if the Dark Lord was misinformed and Potter and his friends were not in attendance but soon dismissed the thought. Nearly the entire law enforcement was here. That was why the Ministry was left open for the taking. That meant they were guarding something—or <em>someone</em>—here. And where Potter went, his two friends surely followed.</p><p>“You two!” he barked at the two nearest Death Eater he reached. “Watch my back. If a single strand of my precious hair is harmed, you’ll pay for it dearly.”</p><p>The two unknown Death Eaters nodded and resumed a defensive stance as they followed Lucius through the fray. Moments later, he heard a woman shout to his left and turned to see the girl he’d been searching for being taunted by Antonin.</p><p>“Dammit!” he cursed. There were no explicit instructions from the Dark Lord that she was not to be harmed but Lucius didn’t want to risk it. Between incurring the Dark Lord’s wrath and Antonin’s ire, Lucius knew the choice he would make. He raised his hand, about to instruct the two lackeys beside him to restrain Antonin and stun the Mudblood but a commotion to his right interrupted him.</p><p>There stood Draco with his mask discarded; his wand aimed at a Death Eater standing in front of him who Lucius realized was Thaddeus Nott. Draco was visibly trembling and Lucius noticed two unconscious bodies lying around them. One was Mulciber while the other was Potter’s other friend, the youngest Weasley boy.</p><p>“I can’t,” Lucius heard his son say; his eyes were slightly wet. “I can’t do this anymore.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Draco.</em>
</p><p>“Blood traitors!” Thaddeus bellowed. “A disgrace to the Dark Lord!”</p><p>The older wizard then started firing curse after curse and Lucius couldn’t help but feel proud of his son as Draco easily deflected each of them but he felt his chest tightened when he saw Rosier sidled up beside Thaddeus and started bearing down on his son. Lucius could see Draco was already losing his hold, a panic look was etched in his young features when he was suddenly disarmed by Thaddeus and Lucius was about to rush over when the werewolf Lupin and his metamorphmagus' wife, Tonks, came to his son’s rescue. Together, the three of them managed to incapacitate Thaddeus and Rosier but they were far from safety. Nearby Death Eaters soon replaced the fallen two and Lucius watched as Lupin’s expression changed. He grabbed Draco by the arm while his wife took the unconscious Weasley and somehow, Lucius knew what was about to happen, what the werewolf was about to do.</p><p>His legs were moving, running as fast as he could. <em>No, no, no. Don’t take him. </em>He kept chanting inside his head. Lucius shoved everyone that was in his way, whether it was a Death Eater, an Auror, or an Order member. He needed to get to his son. A stray curse had hit him on the shoulder and Lucius stumbled down but he hardly felt the pain, hardly felt the blood oozing from his shoulder down to his arm. He staggered to get up, his vision slightly woozy from the blood loss. And as Lucius desperately ambled his way to Draco, he heard another voice inside his head.</p><p>
  <em>Promise me you’ll keep our son safe no matter what.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I promise, Cissa.</em>
</p><p>“Draco!”</p><p>His son looked up at hearing his name and there was a split-second moment when their eyes met before the pull of disapparition took Draco away from him, leaving an empty hole in his chest.</p><p>“Draco, what have you done?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Arthur Weasley watched out of the corner of his eye as his son disappeared with Remus, Tonks, and the young Malfoy. Relief washed over him, knowing his son was now safe. He was one among the scattered people who had witnessed Draco’s sudden change in loyalty and couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy. Harry had told them the story the day Dumbledore died. That in the end, Draco couldn’t bring himself to kill the late Headmaster and admitted that he was only forced to do so because You-Know-Who would kill his family. Arthur remembered Molly clutching his hand tightly as they all listened intently to the story, could feel his wife’s compassion extending to the young lad whose family had made theirs miserable from the start.</p><p>If his wife had her way, she would probably march into Malfoy Manor and rescue the boy.</p><p>“Where’s Ginny?” he heard Molly asked behind him. They’ve been stuck by the entrance of the marquee, fending off Death Eaters.</p><p>“The last time I saw her, she was with Luna.”</p><p>“But Luna has already fled with her father,” Molly replied, her tone was laced with worry. “Have you seen Harry and Hermione?”</p><p>“No, dear. I didn’t see them. Maybe they’ve escaped already,” Arthur hoped to Merlin that they had indeed escaped already for their and everyone else’s sake. He had to wonder if You-Know-Who somehow found out that Harry would be here. All the people who knew about his disguise were sworn into an oath of secrecy, making it impossible for it to come out. Maybe You-Know-Who just wasn’t taking any chances since he knew Harry was close with Arthur’s family. But still, he couldn’t help but feel suspicious about it.</p><p>Arthur stunned another Death Eater before craning his head up above the crowd. He spied the twins and Lee Jordan nearby while Charlie and Oliver Wood were occupied repelling off two Death Eaters. Bill and Fleur had taken off along with the rest of the Delacours to safety. A lone Death Eater was standing there in the middle of the marquee, unmoving. <em>Odd,</em> Arthur thought.</p><p>“Boys!” he called over to them. “You need to leave. Take Lee with you and go!”</p><p>“We’re not leaving you and mum!” one of the twins shouted back.</p><p>“Listen to your father before I go over there myself and hex you two!” Molly snapped.</p><p>Fred and George nodded and motioned for Lee Jordan to take their hands. “You know where to go. We’ll follow you as soon as we find your sister,” Arthur assured his sons before the three disappeared with a loud crack.</p><p>“Arthur! I saw Ginny!” he heard Molly said from behind him. Arthur turned to see Ginny with Harry in his Polyjuiced form who had just finished disarming a Death Eater. Molly didn’t waste any moment and dragged Arthur towards the two.</p><p>“Thank goodness, you two are okay,” he said in a low voice when they reached them. “Harry, you need to get out of here.”</p><p>“I can’t, Mr. Weasley. Have you seen Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked him. “Have they taken them?”</p><p>Arthur shook his head. “Ron was injured but Remus took him to safety.”</p><p>“And Hermione?”</p><p>“I don’t—”</p><p>“Oh, no! Arthur!” Molly shouted and Arthur felt his blood drain from his face when he saw what his wife was yelling about. There on the other side of the marquee was Hermione being attacked by three hooded figures. There was a gash on her left cheek and part of her dress was singed. She was barely holding on but considering that she was battling three experienced Death Eaters… Arthur welcomed the rush of pride and admiration for the intelligent witch who he had considered as his daughter.</p><p>“Hermione!” Harry yelled before he took off at breakneck speed followed by Ginny.</p><p>“Ginny! Harry!” Molly called after them. Arthur and his wife tried to follow them but their path was suddenly blocked by three Death Eaters.</p><p>“Leave us alone!” he snarled but they ignored him and started firing hexes at them instead. At this rate, he and Molly wouldn’t be able to reach the kids in time and the effects of the Polyjuice potion would wear off soon, leaving Harry quite exposed. Arthur looked around for help but everyone else was occupied with saving their own lives.</p><p>“Hermione, they’re after you! Get out of there now!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hello, girly. Did you miss me?</em>
</p><p>Hermione didn’t hesitate in cursing Dolohov as soon as he took a step in her direction. “Confringo!” her wand released a bright purple spell but the Dark wizard had managed to deflect it with ease.</p><p>“My, my, someone’s finally getting vicious,” Dolohov purred. “Whatever happened to ‘stupefy’ and ‘expelliarmus’, Mudblood? Tired of using the same spells over and over?”</p><p>Heat suffused Hermione’s cheeks at the derogatory word. “Don’t call me that!”</p><p>“I will call you whatever name I want, you filth,” he snapped. “And this time, you won’t be able to silence me. Crucio!”</p><p>Hermione ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the Cruciatus curse but her body collided with one of the tables, tripping her. She fell over, her left arm taking the brunt of the impact. A gash marred her cheek but she ignored the pain. Hermione sent a full body-bind curse but it was also deflected. “Shit,” she hissed.</p><p>“Is that all you got, Mudblood?” Dolohov smirked. “Reducto!”</p><p>“Protego! Diffindo!” she fired the spells in rapid succession, shielding herself from his curse while firing offensive quickly after. Dolohov nearly missed the spell, hitting the side of his mask instead and it shattered completely, revealing his face. Hermione noticed he looked more deranged than the last time she fought him in the Department of Mysteries, making him probably more unhinged than Bellatrix. A brief look of surprise and fear flashed across his features but Hermione didn’t have the time to rejoice in it because out of nowhere, a spell hit her side, flinging her a few feet away. She could smell something burning and realized the fringes of her dress were sizzling, tendrils of black smoke coming out of it. Looking up, she noticed two more Death Eaters had joined Dolohov. <em>Great. Just my luck!</em></p><p>They started advancing towards her and Hermione scrambled back as fast as she could. Dolohov waggled a finger in front of him. “Not so fast, Mudblood. If the Dark Lord didn’t want you alive, I would’ve killed you this instant. I’ve actually invented a new spell just for you but alas, that will have to wait until our Master is finished with you.”</p><p>“What the—”</p><p>“Carpe Retractum!” a rope of light sprouted from the tip of Dolohov’s wand. It went straight for Hermione but to her relief, it was immediately fended off.</p><p>Harry and Ginny came into view, taking a defensive stance in front of her. Hermione’s heart started racing. She could see some of Harry’s dark hair already sprouting out of the red curly ones, the effects of the potion already wearing off. <em>Why is he still here?</em></p><p>“Kill the two redheads but leave the girl alive!” Dolohov ordered.</p><p>“Stupefy!”</p><p>“Crucio!”</p><p>“Expelliarmus!”</p><p>“Sanguis Exumai!”</p><p>Ginny managed to avoid the spell easily, her Quidditch training gladly paying off now in the duel but Hermione knew they could only keep it up for so long. Suddenly, Arthur’s voice cut across the crowd.</p><p>“Hermione, they’re after you! Get out of there now!”</p><p>It suddenly all made sense now. Dolohov’s words a few minutes ago. <em>If the Dark Lord didn’t want you alive, I would’ve killed you this instant.</em> They weren’t after Harry. They were after her!</p><p>“Lacarnum Inflamari!” Using her father’s momentary distraction, Ginny managed to hit one of the Death Eaters beside Dolohov, setting his cloak aflame. Harry followed it with a body binding curse, fully incapacitating it. Hermione joined in the fray and soon the other Death Eater was immobilized, leaving only Dolohov standing. Hexes started firing back and forth. Dolohov may be a seasoned duelist but he was bound to get tired eventually and the three of them managed to overpower him with Harry sending him sailing across the marquee.</p><p>“We need to go!” Hermione cried as she pulled out the worn toy from her beaded bag. Apparating was out of the question when she knew they could track her magical signature. Using an illegal portkey, however, would give them a head start. “Grab on to it quickly!”</p><p>Harry seized one of the stuffed animal’s leg while Ginny caught hold of the head. Hermione muttered the password and soon sensed the familiar hooking sensation behind her navel. It was when her vision had started to distort that Hermione noticed a pale masculine hand touched the portkey at the very last second, cold fingertips brushing against her knuckles and part of the toy.</p><p>Hermione looked up and her blazing hazel eyes met icy blue ones. She could only stare in horror as she saw Lucius Malfoy being transported with them.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So there you have it. The golden quadruple are finally together in the next chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dangerous Liaisons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ask and you shall receive. Here's chapter 3. Thank you for the lovely reviews. Also, this story has no beta so I'm sure there are errors. I apologize.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>DANGEROUS LIAISONS.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>AUGUST 1, 1997 (Night).</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sight and sound were squeezed and distorted until darkness consumed Hermione and all she could feel was the soft texture of her worn stuffed animal. Portkeys had the added advantage of being untraceable but Hermione preferred the controlled motion of the apparition. Unlike apparition where the point of the pull started from the top of the person’s head, portkeys had the unfortunate circumstance of being sucked into the void from the person’s navel, making the torso twist in an uncomfortable position, hence the reason why most people land horizontally instead of upright. For a moment, she forgot about the uninvited guest to their quick, little escape as she landed ungracefully on her back, the familiar ceiling of her mother’s parlor room soon came into view. Her vision was still a bit muzzy and there was a ringing in her ears as if something large had exploded within proximity of her hearing. Hermione stayed there, unmoving, trying to get her bearings until a wooden stick landed on her face and she heard a slightly garbled “Hermione, help!”nearby.</p><p>
  <em>A stick?</em>
</p><p>She immediately sat straight up and saw three wands scattered across the plush carpeted floor. Hermione recognized Harry’s familiar phoenix feather wand, while the other two most probably belonged to the remaining occupants of the room. Looking around, she didn’t know whether to laugh or be furious at the sight before her.</p><p>Ginny was on the floor squirming like a worm as she struggled to get off her binds. Next to her was the cause of Hermione’s amusement and consternation. Harry and the Malfoy patriarch were busy going at it like drunk patrons of the Leaky Cauldron on a Friday night. It reminded Hermione of that incident at Flourish and Blotts during her second year where Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy got tossed outside for brawling like teenagers. Hermione wondered whether fistfighting was a natural reaction of Draco’s father to every conflict, forgetting that he had a more powerful arsenal within his person. <em>Like, oh, I don’t know. Maybe his wand?</em></p><p>Hermione marched up to the two men, ignoring Ginny for the meantime who had gone still and was now observing the unfolding spectacle with a curious glint in her eyes.</p><p>“Break it off you two!” in her haste to split them apart, Hermione tried to wedge herself in between them just as Harry was about to push Malfoy again. Her best friend had ended up pushing her towards the blond bigot and Hermione’s left foot caught the leg of an end table. They both toppled down clumsily with Hermione landing face-first on top of Malfoy, her head tucked between the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Oomff!”</p><p>The first thing she noticed was that for someone so evil, Malfoy smelled <em>so good</em>. He smelled of pine trees, citrus, and cardamom with faint traces of firewhiskey—<em>Ogden’s</em>, Hermione thought. At this close proximity, it made her feel heady and intoxicated and it reminded Hermione of waking up early on Christmas morning, only to find that everyone was still asleep. The next thing she noticed was that for a man of his age, Malfoy felt so firm—not that she was feeling him up. <em>No, sir.</em> It was hard to ignore that fact when she was pressed up quite intimately against him. The last thing she noticed, and it shouldn’t be such a surprise, was that Malfoy’s heart was pounding quite loudly in his chest, almost as loud as hers. And it was that glaring truth that surprised her. He had a heart. She was absolutely, positively, sure that his insides mostly comprised of peacock feathers and rotten lacewing flies, pompous git that he was.</p><p>Hermione squirmed against him but her thigh ended up brushing another part of his anatomy that she would rather forget was there. She felt him stiffened underneath her and Hermione decided to stop moving. Callused hands gripped her arms and she winced in pain, remembering suddenly that her left arm had absorbed the impact of her fall back then with her fight with Dolohov.</p><p>A shudder went through her at the memory of his unhinged smile and Malfoy must’ve felt it and interpreted it the wrong way.</p><p>“Get off me!” Malfoy unceremoniously dumped her beside him and Hermione ended on her back once more, gazing at the Victorian ceiling.</p><p>
  <em>This is getting tiresome.</em>
</p><p>“Hermione!” she heard Harry shout and he must’ve found his wand because Malfoy ended up on the floor again as well but his body was entirely tied with thick ropes like the ones she saw Ginny in earlier. Harry then helped her get up before giving her wand back. She spied another wand on the floor near them, one that was unfamiliar and Hermione picked it up, noticing that the cracks nearly split it down into ragged halves. Her fingers tightened her hold on it when she felt a feeble rush of magic flow inside her as if it recognized her or at the very least, acknowledged her. <em>Did I just actually feel that?</em></p><p>“Release me right this instant!” Malfoy snarled. “And don’t touch my wand, you filthy Mudblood!”</p><p>“Are you alright?” Harry asked her, ignoring the thrashing wizard on the ground. Ginny was standing beside him as well with her wand pointed in Malfoy’s direction.</p><p>“I’m fine,” she mumbled. Truth be told, she wasn’t but she didn’t want to appear weak to everyone in the room. “What happened?”</p><p>Ginny jabbed her wand in Malfoy’s direction. “I saw him running towards us back at the wedding. I thought he wasn’t going to make it but apparently, he did. Who knew Mr. Fancy Pants here had it in him?”</p><p>“Ginny!” Harry hissed then he spoke in a lower voice. “I wouldn’t really antagonize him further. If it weren’t for Hermione interfering, he would’ve subdued me.”</p><p>“Where have you taken my son?!” All three of them turned towards the seething wizard on the ground. Hermione had to give it to him. He still looked quite intimidating even though the only thing he could move right now was his head.</p><p>“Draco?” Harry asked confused. He quickly peered around, as if expecting the ferret to suddenly appear out of thin air. “We didn’t take him! You and your lot are the ones who gatecrashed the wedding!”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me, Potter! I saw that disgusting werewolf and his wife apparate him and that idiot Weasley boy!”</p><p>Several sounds of indignation were heard from the three but it was Hermione who spoke first. She didn’t know what exactly happened after Ron was struck with a curse since she was occupied with saving her own arse from being possibly kidnapped by Antonin Dolohov. Hermione levitated Malfoy to the nearest chair she could find and tossed him there carelessly, the same way he did a while ago. It was hard to talk to someone lying on the ground and even though Malfoy’s a complete arsehole, she, at least, had the moral decency to be courteous even with your enemies.</p><p>“Look here you arrogant prat!” she then marched towards him, stomping her feet with all the anger she could muster. “First of all, we didn’t take your precious son. Second, don’t you dare speak to Professor Lupin that way, and third,” she jabbed a finger in his chest as hard as she could “why the hell were you trying to kidnap me?”</p><p>Malfoy had the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes like the answer should be quite obvious. “For someone who claims to be the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’, you sure aren’t that bright.”</p><p>“I didn’t claim—”</p><p>Harry had caught her wrist mid-air as she was about to slap Malfoy’s smug face. Oh, it would be way too easy to wipe that off. She wondered if he would also whimper and cry like his son when Hermione punched Draco in the nose.</p><p>“Answer the question, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry glowered, his bright green eyes blazing.</p><p>“You think can order me around, boy? What are you—arggh!” Malfoy doubled over and howled in pain.</p><p>Harry and Hermione glanced behind to see Ginny lowering her wand, a satisfied look on her face. “I’ve always wanted to do that since I found out he was the one who slipped the blasted diary to me years ago.”</p><p>“What did you do?” Hermione asked. Ginny had always been ruthless and creative when it comes to her curses, the reason why she quite excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, even more than Hermione, probably the same caliber as Harry.</p><p>“Oh, just a little stinging hex.”</p><p>“I doubt that hex is little if it caused him to react that way,” Harry replied.</p><p>"You would if it was aimed at your nuts." At that, Harry visibly shivered.</p><p>"You'll pay for that immensely,” Malfoy seethed. He then took a deep breath as if to calm himself and Hermione watched, fascinated as he regained composure quickly. He reverted to his usual haughty demeanor as if he wasn’t the one in a <em>tight</em> situation—pun intended. Hermione nearly flinched when he directed his sharp eyes to her. “The Dark Lord wanted to use you as bait to lure out Potter here but it seems he doesn’t need to since you are both here already. It’s like hitting two pathetic birds with one stone.”</p><p>All-encompassing fear suddenly replaced Hermione’s fury. If it weren’t for Arthur giving her a warning and Ginny and Harry coming to her rescue, Hermione was positive she would’ve been taken already. She might be sitting in a dungeon somewhere right now, being tortured for information. Dolohov’s face flashed in her vision again.</p><p>“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but she couldn’t help but flinch at the contact. He then surveyed his surroundings, confused at first before recognition washed his features. “Wait, are we in your mum’s parlor? Where are Mr. and Mrs. Granger?”</p><p>
  <em>Shit. Shit. Shit!</em>
</p><p>She hadn’t told Harry about her parents. Hermione sucked a deep breath and gave him her best pleading look, hoping he would drop the questions for now until they were at least out of Malfoy’s earshot. Fortunately, Ginny came to her rescue, unbeknownst to the redhead herself.</p><p>“Parlor? This is where you live? Blimey, Hermione, you didn’t tell us you’re that posh!” Ginny exclaimed, surprised and a bit of awe lacing her tone. Their prisoner was momentarily forgotten.</p><p>“This is our ancestral home. I don’t know how old it is actually," Hermione explained. She noticed that even Malfoy appeared intrigued and was assessing his surroundings quite thoroughly. “My grandfather told me the Grangers had migrated from France in the 18<sup>th</sup> century but didn't specifically say that they had settled here in London. It could have been here before they took residence. No one really knows.”</p><p>The house, if you could call it a house, was a mixture of Victorian and Gothic architecture. It was built of two types of Bath Stone, and was highly picturesque, bristling with turrets and possessing an elaborate roof. All facades have many Gothic main windows (the one Hermione exploded when she was six), Tudor oriel windows, chimneys, and attic dormers. There was supposed to be a tower but only the base was built. When Hermione found out she was a witch, her parents had decided to turn that room into a potions laboratory for her to practice with.</p><p>“But why is everything covered in white cloth?” Harry insisted. “And where are your parents? Where is everyone?”</p><p>“Mum and dad took a vacation,” she lied, the words hissing through her teeth. <em>Please let it be the last of his questions.</em></p><p>“I thought you said your parents are… dentists, aren't they? I didn’t know you could earn that much from cleaning people’s teeth,” Ginny questioned.</p><p>“It pays well but I’ve come from a long line of doctors. They’re the Muggle version of Healers and it's a very respectable career in the Muggle world. Plus, we have a small winery in France too so…” Hermione shrugged. “Had I been a Muggle, I guess I would’ve been a neurosurgeon.”</p><p>“New-row—what?”</p><p>“It’s a healer but for the nervous system like the brain and the spinal cord,” she tapped the back of her neck.</p><p>“You need specific healers for those?”</p><p>“Yes—”</p><p>“As fun and educational this is, I must insist that you tell me now where you hid my son,” Malfoy cut her off impatiently.</p><p>“For the last time, Mr. Malfoy, we didn’t kidnap your son. And even if Professor Lupin did take him, I would bet my life that he wouldn’t harm a child unlike someone I know,” Hermione snapped.</p><p>“Your life means nothing, girl. You may have a fancy house but you’re still nothing but a filthy Mudblood.”</p><p>A hex whizzed past Malfoy, nearly missing his cheek by an inch. “It will hit your man parts again the next time you repeat that word,” Ginny warned.</p><p>“Blood traitor,” he mumbled but didn’t say anything else.</p><p>Harry decided that enough was enough. He pulled the two women out of Malfoy’s earshot and just in case, had placed muffling charms around them. Hermione released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.</p><p>“What do we do with him?” he jerked a thumb in Malfoy’s direction.</p><p>“I say we obliviate him!” Ginny clapped her hands together, her features turning to a manic glee that resembled Dolohov’s face. “We remove his entire memory and replace it with a new one. Let’s turn him into a Muggle!”</p><p>“Ginny, as satisfying as that sounds, we know it would be dangerous for everyone. Accidental magic could happen,” Hermione replied although she was tempted to do it as well. But then she remembered her parents and suddenly felt guilty for Draco. Even though the ferret was a constant pain in her backside throughout her school years, she didn’t want him to go through the pain of losing a parent.</p><p>“We could try and make a deal with him?” Harry suggested.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s wise. This is Lucius Malfoy we’re talking about, you know?” Hermione replied. “The one who got away by saying he was Imperiused by You-Know-Who during the first war when we all know it was just a lie.”</p><p>“But he might know something about the Horcruxes since,” Harry then glanced warily at Ginny before looking back to Hermione. “since he had the diary.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Harry. I rarely have nightmares about it anymore.” Ginny waved him off but Hermione didn’t believe her. When she often stayed up late in their dorm room, she could hear Ginny crying in her sleep and often murmured the words, ‘diary’ and ‘basilisk’.</p><p>“He might know who R.A.B. is too,” Harry added.</p><p>“Well, what makes you sure he’ll tell us anything?”</p><p>“We could tell him where Draco is in exchange for information.”</p><p>“But we don’t know where the ferret is,” Ginny contended. “All we know is that Tonks and Lupin took him and Ron.”</p><p>“We could make up something,” Harry ran a hand through his unruly mop of dark hair before pinching his nose. It was one of the telltale signs of his agitation, something Hermione had become aware of during their second year when Harry insisted the Draco was the heir of Slytherin and no one believed him at first.</p><p>“Have you ever considered that Mr. Malfoy might be a Legilimens?” Hermione countered.</p><p>“It’s not as if we’re going to give him his wand back so unless he can do wandless Legilimency then I guess we can pull it off.”</p><p><em>Well, there’s also the fact that his wand might be broken, </em>she thought. Hermione glanced down at the long, black wand in her hand, her thumb slowly stroking the deep crack. There was that dull throb that still resonated long after she took the wand in her palm. <em>What could this mean?</em> She sighed resignedly.</p><p>There was really no stopping Harry once he’d made up his mind about something. They had a nasty row back in their fifth year when he insisted that Sirius was in danger and they should rush to the Department of Mysteries to save him. Harry had felt remorseful about that incident since aside from getting his godfather killed, he had also put his classmate’s lives in danger. She wanted to pull the guilt card on him now but Hermione remembered that she and Ron were the ones who insisted on coming along with Harry’s hunt for Horcruxes.</p><p>Ron.</p><p><em>Was he okay? </em>Hermione could only hope that the spell that hit him was non-fatal.</p><p>She flicked her gaze in Ginny’s direction. “I supposed you’re alright with this?”</p><p>The redhead shrugged. “Not really. But Harry does have a point. We need to start somewhere.”</p><p>“I will be the one talking and Ginny, stop using heavy spells for now. You’re still sixteen and have the Trace on you. There are wards placed around the house that allowed me to practice a few simple spells before but I don’t know how effective it is if magic is used extensively.”</p><p>Ginny looked like she wanted to argue but nodded in silent acquiescence instead while Harry had that steely determined look on his profile.</p><p><em>Merlin, help us,</em> Hermione thought before dispelling Harry’s muffling charm. If this blew up in their faces, at least there was the option of obliviating Malfoy. She labeled that option as a 'last-ditch effort' and placed it on the back of her mind for now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Lucius wasn’t sure how he ended up like this, wandless and bounded like a helpless cattle. He chalked it up to the heat of the moment, the desperation to find out where his son had been taken. Logically, he knew that the ‘Light’ wouldn’t hurt Draco or at the very least, wouldn’t let him come to extreme harm. But Cissa’s voice echoed inside his head, the words playing repeatedly.</p><p>
  <em>Promise me you’ll keep our son safe no matter what.</em>
</p><p>Promise me. Promise me. Promise me. Promise me. Promise me.</p><p>
  <em>I promise, Cissa.</em>
</p><p>And when Arthur Weasley’s voice reverberated across the marquee, Lucius was snapped back to reality. <em>Hermione, they’re after you! Get out of there now!</em> He then saw the Mudblood girl pulled out something in her bag and he knew in an instant that it was a portkey.</p><p>Dolohov was hurled backwards while Lucius raced forward, towards the girl, Granger. Hermione Granger.</p><p>And maybe, just maybe, the gods were looking down upon him tonight (they probably took kindly to desperate fathers) since he managed to reach the portkey in time. His fingertips brushed the soft fur of the stuffed animal and immediately felt the sickening pull from his navel.</p><p>It was a miracle that his wand had worked when he had cast the incarcerous spell, hitting the Weasley girl on the chest and he had a fleeting thought that maybe he could pull this off—incapacitate the two redheads and get the Granger girl. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she was still lying on the ground, a dazed look on her face. Lucius assumed that she was unused to traveling by portkey. He was about to stun the other one when he realized that it wasn’t a Weasley.</p><p>To his utter surprise and exhilaration, the other redhead was none other than the Boy-Who-Lived himself. It was clever of the Order to Polyjuice him and pretend that he was a distant Weasley relative.</p><p>Unfortunately, it was when Lucius’ luck had run out. His wand had merely emitted a few red sparks when he yelled “stupefy!” but that slight hurdle didn’t deter him. He was a resourceful man. If he couldn’t get luck to the table, he would use sheer will and a bit of force to get what he wanted.</p><p>Dropping his wand to the ground, he lunged at Potter. That was when things went downhill and now here he sat, a prisoner of three teenagers. Pathetic. His ancestors were probably rolling in their graves right now.</p><p>Lucius wondered what went wrong. He had played the scenario in his mind countless times but he should’ve known that there were unforeseen variables that will force your plans to shift whether you like it or not. His father called it<em> zugzwang</em>. A chess term meaning “compelled to move” where any move you make will only weaken your position but you have no choice but to continue or else you forfeit the game.</p><p>And Lucius wasn’t ready to forfeit the game.</p><p>His gaze returned to the bushy-haired, know-it-all witch across the room. Hermione Granger.</p><p>She had intrigued him.</p><p>If she had been born from a Pureblood family, Lucius would stop at nothing to secure a betrothal contract between her and his son. She was academically diligent and had a natural affinity for magic from what he had heard from Severus. Her hair was probably a lost cause but apart from that, the girl looked unconventionally pretty with her whiskey-colored eyes and heart-shaped face.</p><p>But she wasn’t a Pureblood.</p><p>And Lucius should stop thinking about her that way. She was an enemy, nothing more. When the Dark Lord had finally won the war, her life would be extinguished or probably sold to slavery.</p><p>Still, he couldn’t help but be curious.</p><p>He hadn't expected her to physically stop him and Potter and when they both fell, he had acted on instinct and pulled her on top of him. That was his first mistake. The second one was when he had stayed still and hoped the girl would eventually get off him. Her hair, which had grown considerably tame since the first time he saw her in Flourish and Blotts, smelled of fresh roses and vanilla with a hint of something fruity. For a moment, it transported him back to when he was fourteen in his mother's garden during the summer holidays. It reminded him of a happier time.</p><p>But the memory was gone as soon as it came when the girl started squirming. Her thigh brushed his groin and Lucius felt his blood shoot down below. He stiffened, disgusted with himself for such a debase reaction with a girl half his age and Mudblood to boot.</p><p>He shoved her away and that was his third mistake. As soon as the girl was off him, Potter took the opportunity and immobilized him.</p><p>
  <em>Damn it all to hell!</em>
</p><p>Lucius needed to gain the upper hand in this quickly. His fellow Death Eaters would be returning to the Manor soon and the Dark Lord will be informed immediately of what happened at the wedding. And since he and Draco weren’t there to receive the punishment, the only person who will likely suffer his wrath was his wife.</p><p>
  <em>I’m so sorry, Cissa.</em>
</p><p>Lucius bit the inside of his cheek hard and tasted blood.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ginny followed Harry and Hermione as they made their way across the room back to Malfoy who was staring blankly at an open space. She had kept her wand in her hand even though Hermione had forbidden her to use heavy spells. You’ll never know what will happen especially with a sleazy wizard like Lucius Malfoy.</p><p>Hermione stopped in front of him while Harry stood a step back to her left. Ginny sat on the white cloth-covered couch behind them, ankles crossed and leisurely twirling her wand.</p><p>“We want to make a deal,” Hermione announced in her stern, bossy tone, one that commanded everyone’s complete attention. It reminded Ginny of that first DA meeting.</p><p>Malfoy looked up, his eyes narrowed to slits as if he was looking at the sun. He worked his jaw for a few seconds before speaking. “A deal, you say? What makes you so sure I would agree to this?”</p><p>“It’s in your best interest to agree, Mr. Malfoy. Refuse and we will be forced to obliviate you of tonight’s events and dump you somewhere in Muggle London practically wandless. Unless you can apparate without a wand, I don’t think the trip from London to your home would be pleasant.”</p><p>Ginny noted how Malfoy’s eyes tightened and could practically hear the click of his jaw as he gnashed his teeth in rage. “And if I agree?” he said in a clipped tone.</p><p>“We will tell you where Draco is,” Hermione replied confidently. “We’ll even release him at a place of your choosing—provided that it is deemed safe by the Order.”</p><p><em>Oh, she is laying it really thick, </em>Ginny thought. She only hoped that Malfoy wouldn’t find it too convenient to be true.</p><p>“What is the condition?”</p><p>Hermione then stared questioningly at Harry, with him nodding a few seconds after, and if Ginny didn’t know any better, she’d assume that they were using Legillemency on each other. The truth of it was that Hermione and Harry had that deep bond and understanding that even Ginny couldn’t fully comprehend. She had seen it with Fred and George and the Patil twins sometimes but it was somehow different.</p><p>Ginny had never been a jealous person and frankly, Harry had never been hers to begin with but she was sure that whatever it was that was going on between him and Hermione was never romantic. Ginny knew what Harry was like when he was getting all moony over someone and how Hermione tended to become a blubbering mess when she was infatuated with someone. She had seen it and it was something Cho Chang and Ron had never grasped.</p><p>No, Ginny had never been <em>that</em> jealous like Ron and Cho but that didn’t mean she wasn’t jealous at all.</p><p>She was shaken out of her musings when Harry took a step forward beside Hermione.</p><p>“Before Hermione tells you the terms, Mr. Malfoy, we want to know how much do you know about Horcruxes.”</p><p>And there was silence. Ginny swore she could hear the crickets outside. Malfoy continued to gape at her friends, his mouth parted a little and she was tempted to break the unnerving stillness of the room but Malfoy soon spoke and he sounded a bit off.</p><p>“Horcruxes?” he asked, his voice a little higher than it used to. He nearly sounded like Ron when there was a spider nearby.</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione confirmed. “Horcruxes.”</p><p>Ginny noticed that Malfoy had gone a little pale—well, paler than he normally was. And that was when she knew that he knew or at the very least, knew about the darkest magic known to magical people. It was so evil that Magick Moste Evile, a book that contained much information on advanced dark arts, barely skimmed the subject and had even warned readers to not speak of it.</p><p>There was another book tucked away in the Headmaster’s office. <em>The Secrets of the Darkest Arts.</em> It was probably the book You-Know-Who was referring to in professor Slughorn’s memories. Ginny remembered how she had helped Hermione steal it when everyone was busy preparing for Dumbledore’s funeral and knowing Hermione, the book was probably hidden inside her beaded bag right now.</p><p>The book had explained how to create a Horcrux but it never mentioned how to destroy it and it was something that had kept everyone who knew about it awake. Destroying a Horcrux required that the object containing the soul fragment be damaged to a point beyond any and all physical or magical repair but it didn’t explicitly said what spell or object to use. The basilisk’s fang was the only thing they were sure of and Ginny was not too keen on going back down at the Chamber of Secrets.</p><p>“That’s… that’s taboo,” Malfoy remarked. “Even us practitioners of the Dark Arts are forbidden to speak of it.”</p><p>“Why?” Hermione asked.</p><p>“Why do you think, girl?” he snapped and the three of them flinched at that. “Do you even know how such things are made?”</p><p>“One has to deliberately commit murder to damage a part of one’s soul. The person would use a spell to tear off that damaged soul and that fragment is then attached to an inanimate object of one’s choosing.”</p><p>“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Malfoy said sarcastically.</p><p>“Gee, thanks Professor Malfoy,” Hermione bit back.</p><p>Ginny cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Children behave.”</p><p>Both Hermione and Malfoy glared at her and Ginny found it extremely odd that they reminded her of whenever her parents were arguing. She shook the mental image of Hermione and Malfoy as a couple away and raised an eyebrow at them instead as if daring them to tell her off.</p><p>“Right,” Harry scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how to proceed. Hermione sighed beside him.</p><p>“The deal is we would give Draco back to you in exchange for your help in locating You-Know-Who’s Horcruxes.”</p><p>Malfoy seemed to have gone paler than he was a minute ago like all the blood had been drained off him. "So that's how he came back," she heard Malfoy whisper to himself. After a moment, he looked up at Harry. "You mentioned Horcruxes so I'm assuming he made more than at least two. The diary was one of it then?" Malfoy's glacial eyes then flicked from Harry to Ginny and she tightened her hold on her wand, waiting for him to say something demeaning. Just one wrong word and she would hex the living daylights out of him. <em>To hell with the Trace!</em></p><p>But Malfoy bowed his head a little, looking a little abashed, and the words that came out of his mouth next angered Ginny in a different way.</p><p>“I do apologize for that incident. Had I known it was a Horcrux, I wouldn’t have slipped it in your things,” he paused as if deliberating something before making up his mind. “I only meant to put your father in trouble in the guise of harboring illicit dark artifacts in retribution for conducting raids into Pureblood homes.”</p><p>Ginny knew she must’ve looked quite a sight right now with her eyes and mouth wide open. <em>I must be dreaming. </em>She had fantasized about the day Malfoy would be seeking her forgiveness, had imagined countless scenarios and most of it was him on his knees, begging. It had only been that—a fantasy. But now, here it was and somehow, she felt tricked. Like she was robbed of her retribution. Ginny had spent many nights having nightmares because of that damn diary and to find out that Malfoy only did it as some form of petty revenge against her father was despicable. <em>I was just a child!</em></p><p>“Ginny,” she hadn’t realized she was gripping her wand so hard until she felt Harry’s larger hand cover her own, squeezing it for comfort.</p><p>
  <em>No, I wouldn’t break down. I’m not that weak girl anymore.</em>
</p><p>She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’m fine, Harry,” she gently pulled her hand away. <em>I will be the bigger person in this room. </em>“I forgive you, Mr. Malfoy, but I will not forget.”</p><p>Malfoy didn’t respond but nodded his head instead. Ginny hoped he understood that he owed her a huge favor and she will collect when the time came.</p><p>“So,” Hermione began awkwardly, in an attempt to steer the conversation back to the topic. “Do we have a deal?”</p><p>“How do I know you’ll not go back on your word? I’m the one who has more to lose here.”</p><p>“I’m willing to make an Unbreakable Vow with you.”</p><p>“Wait, what—” Hermione cut off Harry’s protest with a glare. Ginny sat back still. She didn’t want anything to do with Malfoy but sacrifices must be made. If an Unbreakable Vow was what it took to get him to cooperate then so be it.</p><p>“Assuming I agree to this deal and help you locate and destroy all of his Horcruxes, what will happen to the Dark Lord then?” Malfoy asked.</p><p>“We believe he will become mortal once more and it’s only a matter of finishing him off.”</p><p>Malfoy had retreated to the back of his mind for a moment. Ginny was sure he was already plotting, trying to turn the situation to his advantage.</p><p>“I accept but I have two conditions of my own apart from giving me my son back.”</p><p>“Name it.”</p><p>“One, if the Light wins the war, my family and I will be completely pardoned from all of our crimes, and two, I want my wand back.”</p><p>“We’ll not agree to that!” Harry yelled.</p><p>“Harry!” Hermione shot him a look and Harry immediately backed down. She then studied Malfoy. “I agree but I have two conditions of my own too.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes at her. “What is it?”</p><p>“I will only agree to the second condition if you promise not to use your wand to, one, cause us any form of harm and, two, contact or summon You-Know-Who or any of your Death Eater pals.”</p><p>“Agreed.”</p><p>“Well, then. Harry will serve as our bonding agent,” Hermione motioned for Harry to come closer and for Ginny to stand guard. “I will release your binds now. Try anything and Ginny would only be happy to hex you.”</p><p>Malfoy smirked at her. “Wizard’s honor.” The binds then came loose once Hermione muttered <em>finite</em> and he stood, flexing his limbs. “Do you mind healing my shoulder first? I don’t fancy passing out from blood loss or dying of infection.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hermione gasped. Ginny now caught sight of the caked blood that covered half of his right arm and wondered who had cursed him.</p><p>After healing him, Harry had immediately started performing the ritual required of the Unbreakable Vow. He stood quite close to the pair as Hermione and Malfoy clasped each other’s right wrist. As each of the two recited their vows of the other, whereupon each time either of them accepted, Ginny watched entranced as thin streams of fire emitted from Harry’s wand and wove through Hermione’s hand first before encircling Malfoy’s. The end of the stream came full circle as it looped back to Harry’s wand before dissipating.</p><p>“It’s done,” Harry declared.</p><p>“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Ginny snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes.</p><p>“What do you expect, Gin? Fireworks?”</p><p>The redhead only shrugged her shoulders tiredly. It was probably getting late and they needed to rest but she was still skeptical about Malfoy and his motives. “Where are we going to sleep?”</p><p>Everyone stared at her as if she had become a brunette. “What?”</p><p>“I haven’t thought of that,” Hermione muttered.</p><p>“You haven’t thought of sleeping?” Malfoy scoffed.</p><p>There it was again, the mental image of her friend and her enemy as a bickering couple like her parents. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine anything else. <em>Voldemort as a redhead. Snape in purple-colored robes with unicorn patterns. Death Eaters having tea parties.</em></p><p>The mantra worked but now she couldn’t erase the idea of Voldemort sipping Earl Grey with Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. An inelegant sound escaped from Ginny’s throat.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Harry asked.</p><p><em>Merlin stop her</em>. If she heard him ask that question again, she would vanish Harry’s mouth into nonexistence. Ginny liked to think she knew him quite well. Not as well as Hermione did but enough to understand these parts of him. Ginny understood his reticence. His sense of responsibility, his need to care for her and everyone else in his circle. She loved him and was willing to go to the necessary lengths to help and protect him but Harry can be overbearing and insensitive sometimes. And right now, she just wanted him to let her be, to let her disappear in her thoughts and process the emotions going through her.</p><p>“I’m fine, Harry. Just exhausted,” she then glanced at Hermione. “Can we continue this discussion tomorrow?”</p><p>Hermione nodded. “I’ll get some pillows and comforter upstairs. I think it’s best if we all sleep here together just in case something happens. You can take the couch, Gin. The rest of us will sleep on the floor.”</p><p>“Great,” Ginny heard Malfoy whisper to himself.</p><p>“But Hermione, this is your home—”</p><p>“And you are my guest,” Hermione insisted with a finality that brooked no argument. “Harry can show you the loo if you need to use it,” She then turned around and stalked off to find some extra pillows.</p><p>Ginny didn’t bother stopping the yawn that escaped her mouth.</p><p>
  <em>What a night.</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hermione sat on the Windsor chair beside the tall Gothic windows overlooking their garden. The moon was especially alive tonight, nearly illuminating the entire surrounding outside. She remembered how her mother frequently sat in this spot and read by the moonlight. Shakespeare's The Winter’s Tale was one of Jean Granger’s favorites and it was where she got her daughter’s name.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione.</em>
</p><p>A virtuous and beautiful Queen of Sicily who was accused of infidelity by her husband and eventually died of a broken heart but was resurrected in the end. Yet, it was not entirely clear if she had actually been resurrected by Paulina or if she had been alive the whole time. Hermione secluded herself for sixteen years without caring what her absence did to the memory of those she left behind. It was, perhaps, a striking coldness in such an otherwise tender and dignified character.</p><p>Hermione wondered why her mother named her after such a character.</p><p>“Hey,” Harry came up beside her. He leaned against the window frame, his spectacles glinted under the pale moonlight. There were bags under his eyes from sleepless nights since Professor Dumbledore’s passing.</p><p>“You should sleep, Harry,” she said, her gaze landing on Ginny’s sleeping form on the couch then on Malfoy who was lying sideways with the back of his head facing them. Hermione had decided that they will take turns in sleeping since they still don’t completely trust Malfoy despite the vow. “We have a long day of planning ahead of us tomorrow.”</p><p>Harry regarded her for a moment. “Your parents were never on vacation, weren’t they?” he responded instead.</p><p>Hermione shook her head softly. “No.”</p><p>“And the staff? Bernard?”</p><p>“Gone. Safe.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand in his.</p><p>“Don’t be, Harry. I know what I signed up for,” she squeezed his fingers in reassurance. “Do you think we should contact Arthur? Let them know Ginny is safe?”</p><p>“It’s too risky. You-Know-Who has complete control of the Ministry,” he had let go of her hand and ran his fingers through his hair instead. “I shouldn’t have brought her here.”</p><p>“Harry, you know that Ginny wanted to come with us. She could’ve stayed but she chose to grab the portkey. You’re not responsible for everyone.”</p><p>“But I don’t want anyone dying because of me!” he hissed.</p><p>“When will you ever get it into that thick skull of yours that it’s not about you! This war has been going on for decades even before you were born!” Hermione snapped. Ever since he found out about that damn prophecy, Harry had this notion that the fate of the wizarding world rested on his shoulders like some young adult protagonist in a book. “Even if you’re not the chosen one, people are still going to die, Harry. This is war. People are sacrificing themselves for their cause!”</p><p>“You sure do know how to kick a guy when he’s down,” he smiled ruefully at her.</p><p>“Harry, you know what I mean.”</p><p>“I know,” he held his palms up in surrender. “I think I’m going to take you up on that offer of sleep. Wake me up when I need to take over.”</p><p>Harry shuffled back to the others and proceeded to lay down a foot away from Malfoy. Hermione watched as Harry tucked his wand underneath his pillow and removed his spectacles before placing it beside his head.</p><p>Hermione finally let her shoulders sag in relief. Tonight had gone significantly well all things considered. She can only hope that Malfoy would prove to be useful in finding those Horcruxes. Glancing at her right hand where he had grasped it earlier, Hermione could still feel the fire streams from their Unbreakable Vow, could still feel the imprint of his large callused hands and that tiny spark of electricity once their skins touched.</p><p>
  <em>Had I made the right choice?</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A Ginny POV! Let me know what you think. Kudos and comments are highly encouraged!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Childhood Lullabies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, thanks a bunch for the lovely reviews.</p><p>I forgot to upload this chapter before I went out of the country a month ago. I just got back from Manila last week but work was hectic that I couldn't get ahold of my laptop. Sorry for the long wait. To make it up to you, here's a short Lucius backstory at the beginning of this chapter and it's not a happy one. Mind the tags!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>CHILDHOOD LULLABIES.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lucius stood in the middle of his father’s study still in his Hogwarts’ uniform. He had just come home when the house-elf informed him that Abraxas wanted to see him immediately. The fact that his mother wasn’t there to greet him when he had stepped inside the Manor was already a bad omen and Lucius could already guess what the issue was about. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His father wasn’t happy with his O.W.L. score in Defense Against the Dark Arts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Exceed Expectations?” Abraxas threw a copy of his son’s O.W.L. scores on the floor in front of him. “Of all the subjects to get an E, you had to choose Defense Against the Dark Arts! You disappoint me. What was it, Lucius? Was your professor incompetent? Or were you slacking in your studies?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-I-I wasn’t—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So it was your professor then? Because I can have her sacked immediately. I would make sure she would be replaced by someone much more capable.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Guilt washed over Lucius. Professor Rothes had been an exceptionally good teacher. She had a very good understanding of the Dark Arts and wasn’t hesitant to delve into it more with the students. She was also patient and had this aura that made people like her. No, the problem wasn’t with the professor. It was with Lucius himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had messed up the practical exams. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had performed extremely well in casting counter-jinxes and defensive spells, but when the last part of the exam came, Lucius froze. Two years ago, his boggart appeared as him being a beggar on the streets of Knockturn Alley but now when Professor Rothes had opened the cabinet containing the creature, it suddenly transformed into his father holding a whip. The Abraxas-boggart slowly approached Lucius, its arm raised as if to strike him and Lucius couldn’t move. His entire body was stiffly frozen except his heart which was beating wildly against his chest. He couldn’t raise his wand let alone talk. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The professor had given him a chance by asking him to perform the Patronus charm but he was still reeling from his boggart to even think of a happy memory. And when he had tried to cast it, nothing came out of his wand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Professor Rothes gave him a worried look and asked him if he wanted to talk but Lucius brushed her concerns off and stormed out of the exam room back to the Slytherin dungeons. He hadn’t given it much thought until now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It was me, father. I promise I will do my best with my N.E.W.T.S.,” Lucius had hung his head in shame. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Abraxas tutted and stepped closer to his son. “That won’t do, Lucius. It seems your education at Hogwarts alone isn’t enough.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius’s insides were trembling with fear and he glanced at his father who was observing him, assessing him from head to toe. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Father, please,” he pleaded. “Professor Rothes has been—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Silence!” the back of his father’s hand had made contact with his left cheek and Lucius staggered back, eyes glassy from unshed tears. “You’re a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Pathetic and weak. If your mother is still capable of bearing me another son, I would’ve gotten rid of you sooner.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Abraxas then gripped his son’s arm tightly enough to bruise. Lucius didn’t have the time to register what was happening and was suddenly disapparated side-along by his father. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He landed knees first onto the hard concrete pavement, the late afternoon sun boring down on him uncomfortably hot and stifling with humidity. Lucius realized they were on the outskirts of a Muggle village and dread instantly filled his entire body. Nothing good would come out of this venture, he was sure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Get up,” Abraxas hissed at him before striding confidently into the village. Lucius trailed after him dutifully until they stood in front of a house—if you could call the small thing a house. A copse of sycamore trees surrounded it, obscuring its windows from view and the nearest neighbor was two houses farther away. It was convenient for what was coming next. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His father pulled out his wand and blasted the door open. Lucius followed him inside and saw two terrified Muggles standing by the tattered couch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who are you? What are you doing here?” the man asked. He pulled the woman he was standing with behind him. “If it’s money you want, we have none.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Abraxas scoffed at the insinuation that he was a thief. In a few seconds, the two Muggles were suddenly kneeling on the floor, bounded and silenced by him. He then turned to Lucius who was still gaping at the captives in shock. “To properly understand the Dark Arts and protect yourself from it, you need to learn first how to cast it. Learning how to wield it against your opponent will give you an insight on how to cast a counter-curse. Now, show me what you have learned.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But father—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I will only ask once, Lucius,” Abraxas cut him off with a growl. “Begin.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had no choice. It was either them or him. For the next hour, he had perfectly cast every dark spell he knew, alternating between the man and the woman. By now, they were huddled on the floor, bloodied and gasping for air while Lucius was out of breath, sweat trickling at the back of his neck. He then looked at his father who was standing to the side for approval. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Very well,” Abraxas nodded proudly. “Finish them now so we can go home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The temperature plummeted from uncomfortably warm to freezing cold in an instant. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius was no stranger to murder. He had seen Abraxas and his fellow Death Eaters do it more than once when his father brought him Muggle hunting sometimes, but he had never done it himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I, I, I…” Lucius stuttered, finding himself wholly unable to make his brain function long enough to come up with a response. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sensing his hesitation, Abraxas walked to where Lucius was standing and placed a hand on his shoulder. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I thought I taught you better. You’re the only Malfoy heir. Your only purpose is to bring about the glory of the family name, to preserve our pure bloodline.” He sensed his father lean forward, mouth next to Lucius’ ear as Abraxas whispered, “Remember, there is no place in your life for anything like Muggles and their filthy blood.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius had always wondered how it felt like to end a life, to snatch away something that wasn’t yours. His father said that there were many ways to kill but the quickest and most used one was the killing curse. There were others who preferred to torture Muggles to death, using all their knowledge of curses to savor every scream and pain until the body gave out and the light in their eyes was extinguished. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had seen his father indulged now and then. The first time Lucius had witnessed someone being tortured, he vomited his lunch in an instant and had spent three days in the Manor’s dungeons with only water as his sustenance as punishment for his weakness. The second time, he had managed to hold back his bile until he was alone. It went on until he had gotten used to the smell and the sight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius glanced at his wand that was clutched tightly in his fist, remembered the joy and pride he experienced when he received it that day in Ollivander’s shop. He didn’t want to disappoint his father but he couldn’t do what he was asking as well. He didn’t want to taint something so pure with such a dark curse but time was ticking. If he refused, his father would most assuredly send him to the dungeons again and Lucius didn’t want to feel the biting cold of the manacles on his wrists and ankles, didn’t want to suffer the searing lashes of his father’s whip. </em>
</p><p>They’re nothing but filth<em>, he tried to convince himself. </em>The world will be a better place without them.</p><p>
  <em> His eyes then caught something glinting across the room and Lucius spied a knife by the kitchen counter. A year ago, he had read a Muggle book from Severus that there was a side of the neck and throat just about even with the adam’s apple. This area contained the carotid artery and jugular vein. If either was cut, the person will bleed to death very rapidly. The carotid was approximately one and a half inches beneath the surface of the skin, and if severed, will result in death in approximately five to fifteen seconds. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius marched over quickly to the kitchen and grabbed the knife. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are you doing?” his father asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The killing curse might be traced back to me if the Ministry detected it. This is safer, father,” he lied but Abraxas seemed to believe it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Turning around, Lucius stopped in his tracks when he noticed the door to what looked like a closet partially opened. He spied a kid probably five years younger than him crouched down on the floor eyes wide. Lucius raised a finger to his lips, motioning for the boy to remain silent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Get this over quickly. I still have some unfinished business back home,” Abraxas ordered. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, father.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius stood behind the woman and tilted her head upwards. He noticed her irises were brown, almost the same color as the sycamore trees outside, and lifeless. She had barely registered the feel of the knife as it sliced through her neck. Lucius then let go of her and proceeded to slit the man’s neck as well. The knife clattered to the ground as he had shakily let go of it. Blood started pooling underneath the bodies and he stepped away as to not get anything on his dragonhide boots. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was done and he felt numb. Why couldn’t he feel anything? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Mummy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At that moment, Lucius’ heart stopped, frozen, eyes frantic as he watched the kid he saw earlier standing by the door, fear lacing the boy’s features. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abraxas pulled out his wand and aimed it at the boy. A scream built up inside Lucius’s chest as his father chanted the killing curse. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wanted to stop him, to beg his father to spare the boy, but he couldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t work, his voice wouldn’t work. Nothing worked and he was forced to watch in slow-motion as his father snuffed out the light of someone Lucius dared to protect. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Next time, I’ll make you use your wand,” Abraxas murmured, holstering his own before grabbing Lucius’s arm. “Now. Let’s go home.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> AUGUST 2, 1997. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Lucius woke up with a start. It had been two decades since he last had that nightmare. He wondered why he was reliving it now. His eyes darted around and soon realized he wasn’t in the Manor nor Azkaban. He was lying on the floor of the Mudblood girl’s home. Sitting up, he noticed that everyone was still asleep, even Granger herself who had taken post by the tall windows last night.<em> Some guard you are</em>, he snorted. He hoped she would wake up with a stiff neck from sleeping in that position.</p><p>It would’ve been too easy. The three of them looked so vulnerable right now and unless the house was under the Fidelius charm or a protection ward, it wouldn’t take more than five minutes for Lucius to make contact with the Dark Lord without using his wand—something the girl hadn’t taken into account when they made the vow.</p><p>He lifted his right hand for inspection, wondering if he could still see the thin streams of magic that enveloped it last night. Lucius was more than surprised when the girl had suggested an Unbreakable Vow and from the look on Potter’s face, it wasn’t planned at all. Still, he had used the situation to his advantage to secure his family’s future <em>if </em>the Dark Lord was defeated—which was something Lucius would definitely ensure.</p><p>Learning about the Horcruxes last night, he had finally gotten the bigger picture. His father once said that ignorance was what gave power to others. Ignorance was what got people killed. For the first time in all his life, Lucius didn’t feel like a clueless pawn anymore, an expendable chess piece under the madman’s thumb. He was one of the major players now and a very powerful one.</p><p><em> Knowledge is power</em>.</p><p>With a renewed sense of purpose, Lucius extracted his wand from underneath his pillow and made his way silently around the girl’s house. The first order of business was to find a bathroom to clean himself up. He still reeked of yesterday’s events and he didn’t fully trust his wand to perfectly expel a scouring charm to remove the dried blood that had clung to his clothes. Lucius spotted a grand piano underneath a white cloth on his way out of the parlor room.</p><p>He could tell that the house had undergone a lot of changes since its construction. The hallways had a bit of modern touch to them with fine plaster ceilings and carved friezes, unlike the parlor room but the rest were locked so Lucius’ exploration was limited. Alohomora wouldn’t probably work in his wand’s condition. He had passed by the kitchen and the dining area but he still hadn’t seen the loo. There was an unlocked room on the other side of the estate where he had stayed a little bit longer than he intended.</p><p>It was twice bigger than the parlor room and was neat and tidy. A few pieces of furniture were draped in the typical white cloth but he noticed the rows of shelves that covered nearly the entire room.<em> It’s the library, </em>he mused. It was smaller than their family library but the shelves were decked with Muggle books. A full wall was adorned with Muggle paintings and tapestries while the other was just left plain with only a Victorian wallpaper as its decoration.</p><p>The girl had spent a lot of time in here. There was a copy of Hogwarts, A History on a little side table by the settee as well as a Muggle photograph of an orange tabby sitting awkwardly near the edge of the frame, an odd empty space beside it.<em> Strange. Why would they have a photo of a cat? A beloved childhood pet, perhaps? </em>He had also spotted the odd signs of her childhood across the room: a tiny doll above the stone mantle, children and language books that were within easy reach, and to his surprise, a potions kit. He had one when he was six as a gift from his mother.</p><p>Closing the door behind him, Lucius decided to go back to the parlor room before they woke up and found out that he had wandered, but a door with a large arcaded and elaborately carved upper panel caught his attention. He felt giddy with mischief when he heard the resounding click of a lock rolling back, remembering the times he had explored prohibited parts of the Malfoy Manor when he was young. The door creaked halfway and Lucius stepped inside, closing the door behind him carefully.</p><p>It was her father’s study.</p><p>Like the library, it was smaller than the one in Malfoy Manor but what struck Lucius was the fact that the room wasn’t covered. As if it was just left there untouched.</p><p>He pulled the chair back and sat in it, relishing the feel of being in the seat of power. The long, lean frame of his form was slanted against the unbroken curve that made up the chair’s back and armrests. His arms were flung over the sides, boneless in relaxation. It was nowhere near comfortable and lavish as his chair back home and the desk, while mahogany, was simple in design. Lucius ran a finger along the edges until he noticed a turned-down black picture frame.</p><p>
  <em> This must be her parents. Henry and Jean Granger. </em>
</p><p>An ugly feeling crawled across his chest as he noticed that the mother had brown eyes. <em>Almost the same color as the sycamore trees outside. </em>Lucius shook his head. These brown eyes weren’t lifeless. This couple wasn’t them. The Muggle couple from his nightmare—or memory. He couldn’t tell if the two were separate or not anymore. These were the Grangers. The girl’s Muggle parents.</p><p>He had read their files back when Draco had started whining about a Mudblood besting him in every class he had and Lucius hoped that maybe she had some unknown magical ancestors that could explain why a girl of inferior birth was surpassing his son. He was annoyed to find out that she was just that—a plain Mudblood, nothing more. Either Dumbledore had found another favorite or she was just what his son had told him—a know-it-all swot.</p><p>Still, she found the girl intriguing enough to warrant a space in his head, Mudblood or no. Her relationship with Potter was something to observe too. Lucius had read that article about her during the TriWizard tournament that hinted about her supposed affair with the Boy-Who-Lived and National Quidditch player, Viktor Krum. And while Lucius knew that Rita Skeeter mostly printed embellished lies, there was always a factual basis to it that was twisted to sell more to the masses.</p><p>Just how deep her relationship with Potter really was? Last Lucius heard, the boy was dating the Weasley girl. Could he use it to create discord between the three?</p><p>He was about to put back the Muggle photo when something else caught his attention. There was a wide, empty space between her parents like someone was supposed to be there. Like…<em> oh. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Your parents were never on vacation, weren’t they?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And the staff? Bernard?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Gone. Safe.” </em>
</p><p>The conversation he had overheard between Potter and Granger last night suddenly made sense. The empty spaces in the photographs could only mean one thing. She had obliviated her parents possibly her entire servants too, had removed every single memory of herself from them. Lucius didn’t know whether to commend the girl for her guts or mock her for her stupidity. There were other ways to hide a person without resolving to use the memory charm.</p><p>Just as he was about to put back the photo, the doors slammed open revealing a furious-looking Granger. Her unruly hair was much wilder than it was last night and Lucius wondered if it had a mind of its own.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped. He felt his hackles rising and Lucius wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around her slender neck and choke the Mudblood to death.<em> How dare she speak to her superior that way! </em></p><p>Her blazing amber orbs then flicked from his flashing blue ones down to his hands and Lucius thought her hair couldn’t get anymore wilder but he was wrong. He could even see sparks coming out of it.</p><p>“Don’t touch that!” she hissed, and the vehemence in her voice took him by surprise. That would certainly give even the Dark Lord a run for his money.</p><p>But instead of dropping the picture frame, Lucius held it up and waved it mockingly in front of her. “My, my, what have you done to your parents, Miss Granger?” he purred.</p><p>“None of your business, that’s what,” she strode over, quickly grabbing it but Lucius was quick. He got up and raised the picture frame above his head. He walked slowly towards Granger, cornering her until her back hit the nearest bookshelf.</p><p>Their bodies were only a hair’s breadth away from touching but he could feel her warmth as if she was wrapped around him like a devil’s snare while the familiar scent of flowers and vanilla washed over him. Lucius could see the fear, indignation, and anger blazing in her big brown eyes and he relished in it. He leaned down further and watched as her eyes turned black as coal.</p><p>“No, it’s not,” he whispered. Indeed, it was none of his business, logically and rationally speaking, but that information could be used as a bargaining chip to save his own skin and his family’s if his plans, unfortunately, got foiled by the Dark Lord. And besides, it was fun to rile up the Mudblood. “And I really don’t care about what you may have done with your parents.”</p><p>He straightened his back before pushing the picture frame in the Mublood’s hands. A minuscule spark of electricity made him jerk back immediately when their skins touched and Lucius shoved the feeling in the back of his mind as he whirled around towards the door, leaving the girl standing there staring bewilderedly at his retreating form.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hermione’s heart was still hammering inside her chest as she watched Malfoy’s rigid back until the door closed behind him. She continued staring at the closed door for a long moment until her gaze fell back to the picture frame in her hands. <em>What the bloody hell was that? </em></p><p>She had woken up by a frantic-looking Harry saying that Malfoy had left them. Hermione knew that Malfoy was still inside the estate since the wards she had set up last night when she went up to get some pillows and sheets hadn’t alerted her. But to appease Harry, who was now carving a path on her mother’s beloved Persian rug, Hermione decided to go and search for the annoying Pureblood prick.</p><p>She had begun to worry when she couldn’t find Malfoy in the first five rooms. By the time she was in the library and there was still no sign of him, she was already panicking.</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t have escaped, could he? </em>
</p><p>Hermione was starting to doubt if the charms she had cast last night were weak enough to be easily dismantled by someone with a broken wand. She was about to head back when she heard something creaking nearby and her heart started racing when Hermione realized that it was coming from his father’s study.</p><p>She nearly saw red when she spotted him sitting in her father’s chair with her parents’ photo in his hand, looking so smug. Her parents weren’t dead but with Lucius Malfoy, the paragon of Pureblood supremacy, sitting there like he owned the place felt like he was defiling their memory, their very essence. He had no right to be sitting there much less be inside her father’s study.</p><p>And what was worse was that he knew what she did.</p><p>Even before he opened his mouth, Hermione knew that he found out what she did and the way he taunted her, the way he derisively said the word <em>your parents </em>made her want to renege on their vow and kill him then and there—if only it wouldn’t forfeit her life as well. <em>Damn that vow! </em></p><p>As Malfoy backed her literally into a corner, she now realized how power dynamics worked; how a wandless person can still hold immense power over someone who has a wand. That physicality wasn’t just the sole basis of a person’s strength although she was sure that wand or no, Malfoy could overpower her easily.</p><p>And that fact made Hermione all the more suspicious about him. She wasn’t stupid. She knew there were other ways for him to call upon his fellow Death Eaters without using his wand. Hermione had seen Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries when she pressed her finger against her Dark Mark to summon You-Know-Who. Her home could be surrounded by Death Eaters faster than she could say Quidditch but that wasn’t the case. Why did Malfoy agree to help them? Why did he allow her, the Muggleborn scum he wished to eradicate from the face of the earth, to make an Unbreakable Vow with her? What was his endgame here?</p><p>A whiff of citrus and earth enveloped her then and Hermione was starting to associate the smell with fear and something else she couldn’t name yet. Her breathing was coming up short, her vision blurring along the edges and when he shoved the picture frame in her hands, when his skin made contact with hers at the action, Hermione felt like she was ignited. The feeling was similar to when she stuck a metal stick inside a socket when she was seven—it was electrifying and exhilarating at the same time. The overwhelming sensation nearly caused her to gasp out loud and the only thing that stopped her was Malfoy’s expression.</p><p>The look of shock on his face didn’t escape her notice and Hermione had to wonder if it was still the after-effects of the Unbreakable Vow they made last night or something <em>more</em>.</p><p>Even moments after Malfoy had left, she could still feel it in her bones that she had to lean against the bookshelf for support because her knees had started wobbling.</p><p>
  <em> What is happening to me? </em>
</p><p>She slowly made her way back to her father’s desk and gently placed the photograph there for the second time, her thumb stroking the glass before turning it down. Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the guilt and everything she had felt since her encounter with Malfoy this morning in the back of her mind.</p><p>Looking back at the impulsive vow she made last night, Hermione couldn’t help but think that she made a mistake. They had no idea where Draco Malfoy was nor where Remus and Tonks had taken him. She supposed they could ask Mr. Weasley if Remus had made contact but Harry had forbidden her from reaching out to the Weasleys. It was for their safety, he reasoned. Still, she had no plans on not fulfilling the vow she made. Hermione didn’t want to die yet.</p><p>Unbreakable Vows were like contracts. It was something she had realized in her third year at Hogwarts. And like contracts, these vows tended to have loopholes in them that Hermione can exploit and get around to. Yes, she had agreed to tell Malfoy the location of his son but he didn’t set a deadline or specified a date when she should tell him. As long as he wasn’t aware of that tiny bit of detail, Hermione still had time to figure things out.</p><p>And she will figure this out.</p><p>Shutting the door behind her, Hermione laid a handful of protective wards over it before heading back to join her friends to begin planning the hunt for the Horcruxes.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The smell of eggs and meat cooking permeated the air inside the kitchen. Harry stood to the side, leaning against the counter as he helped Ginny cook breakfast using the Muggle stove. It was such a domestic thing to do and this serene image of domesticity between them made his heart ache, made him long for a future with her where they got to do simple things such as making dinner for each other or grocery shopping together.</p><p>Harry woke up from one of his usually Voldemort-induced nightmares again where he saw his arch-nemesis torturing a woman who looked oddly familiar to him when he realized that Lucius Malfoy was missing.</p><p>He immediately woke Hermione up from her slumber on the chair beside the window, feeling a little exasperated that she didn’t bother waking him up to exchange rounds. Ginny was also woken up by the ruckus and when Hermione had left to search for Malfoy, only Harry himself and Ginny were left. But before he could say anything, a loud grumble from her stomach interrupted him. Ginny gave him a sheepish smile and asked if where can they get some food so Harry directed them to the kitchen. If they were going to search for Malfoy (if what Hermione said was true) through the entire estate, they might as well do it on a full stomach.</p><p>“Do you know where's the salt?” Ginny roused him from his musings.</p><p>Harry walked over to the other side of the kitchen where the salt and pepper shakers were placed. He handed it to Ginny who nodded her head in thanks.</p><p>A few minutes passed with only the sizzling of meat from the pan could be heard until Ginny spoke again but her focus was still on the stove.</p><p>“How many times have you been here, Harry? You seemed so familiar with Hermione’s house.”</p><p>Harry shrugged. “Only twice.”</p><p>“Only twice?” Ginny looked at him in the eye this time as if she didn’t believe him. Harry had to make her understand.</p><p>“Hermione gave me her address when I met her parents in Flourish and Blotts during Lockhart's book signing in case I needed someplace to go to. I spent half of my summer there when the school year ended. Hermione’s parents knew about the… the <em>situation </em>with the Dursleys,” even though he had patched things up with them, it was still quite hard for Harry to talk about it, to acknowledge the years of physical and emotional abuse he went through as a child. “They offered to help me get out of there, offered to foster or adopt me into their home but I declined.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“The Dursleys are the only family I have, Gin,” he said but seeing the hurt look on her face made him speak again. “Your family has been kind to me from the beginning and I considered them my family as much as the Dursleys but, Gin, they’re the only blood relative I have. They’re my mother’s family.”</p><p>“But they have never treated you like one!” she said frustrated. Ginny swooped up the remaining meat and eggs on the pan and sloppily placed them on a plate, too angry to care. "You were just a kid! You did nothing wrong and they treated you like shit!"</p><p>“I know,” was all he said, a melancholic look on his face. “And I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Whatever for?” she raised a brow at him.</p><p>“For dragging you into this mess,” he raked his fingers through his messy mop of dark hair. “You should be at Hogwarts continuing your study instead of being on the run with me and Hermione. I’m sorry about Lucius Malfoy being here. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay away. I’m—oww! Ginny!”</p><p>Harry yelped in surprise when a small chunk of charred meat was chucked in his face.</p><p>“Let’s get something straight here, Harry. I was the one who came here willingly. No one forced me to grab Hermione’s portkey. I came here because I wanted to help you guys and I know Mum and Dad, they understand,” she reached over clasped his hands in hers and Harry felt like crying again but he blinked the unshed tears away. “They’re scared but they understand. And whatever this thing between us can wait when the war is finally over. For now, we should focus on surviving and finding those Horcruxes."</p><p>"Gin," he whispered, shaking his head. It was too much. There was so much hope in her words, hope for him, for a better future between them, and Harry was tempted to believe it but knowing his life, knowing the burden placed on his shoulders, he couldn't afford to. It would gut him.</p><p>"You think too much, Harry. Leave that job to Hermione," Ginny gave him a small smile as she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. They jumped apart when they heard someone clearing their throat by the door.</p><p>"Am I interrupting something?" Lucius Malfoy was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed at the chest and looking too pleased to have interrupted an intimate moment.</p><p>"Where the hell have you been?!" Ginny quickly recovered first and marched towards the blond aristocrat. Harry was more than happy to let her do all the talking. After that talk with Ginny, he felt like he didn't have the energy to argue with Draco's father.</p><p>"Why should I answer to you?" Malfoy sneered.</p><p>"Then, pray tell, who do you answer to? Your eminence, You-Know-Who?" Ginny bit back.</p><p>Harry expected Malfoy to lash out, to say something scathing to Ginny but he was thrown off guard when the Death Eater started laughing instead. Even Ginny was shocked by the unexpected reaction as well.</p><p>"You're in an awfully good mood today," Harry remarked.</p><p>"Who wouldn't be?" Malfoy cryptically replied before sauntering inside the room. He pulled a chair and sat in front of the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. "What is<em> that</em>?"</p><p>"Breakfast. If you want one then help yourself," Ginny waved towards the plates of food on the table. "There are no house-elves here to serve your posh arse."</p><p>"You call this food?" he sniffed mockingly.</p><p>"Fine, starve yourself!" she pulled the plates farther away from him. Before Malfoy could do anything, Hermione entered the kitchen as well and sat far away from him.</p><p>“Morning, Hermione,” Ginny greeted.</p><p>Hermione nodded distractedly and Harry realized that something was on her mind. He wondered what happened between her and Malfoy. She then proceeded to fill up her plates with eggs, ham, and some sausages. Her eyes were trained to the food and nothing else.</p><p>
  <em> Something was up. </em>
</p><p>Harry noticed that Malfoy looked far too pleased with himself for someone who was caught wandering around the house and Hermione was acting strange. It reminded him of that time when Ron had started dating Lavender and Hermione acted as if he didn't exist. Harry needed to talk to his friend, preferably alone and out of the others’ earshot. For now, he’ll just go with whatever was going on.</p><p>He took a seat beside her while Ginny occupied his other side, near Malfoy, and started filling up her plate as well. They continued to eat in silence while Malfoy on the other hand just sat there looking so out of place. Harry wondered if it was Malfoy’s first time inside a kitchen.</p><p>Finally, he couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore. Harry cleared his throat to get Malfoy’s attention.</p><p>“So, Horcruxes,” he began and Malfoy’s eyes immediately landed on him. “You were wondering last night if he made more than two. The answer is yes.”</p><p>“How many?”</p><p>“That’s the part we are trying to figure out. The diary is indeed one and there’s that ring Professor Dumbledore destroyed.”</p><p>“The Gaunt family ring?”</p><p>“How did you know?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Abraxas Malfoy went to school with him although the Dark Lord is a year older. My father told me that the Dark Lord is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself from the Gaunt family line,” Malfoy explained then looked at his left hand that was lying flat on the table. Harry noticed a ring on his pinky finger. “Every ancient Pureblood family has a signet ring that is passed down to its successor as a symbol of their continued wealth and status as a Pureblood family. I don't know much about the Gaunts but my father once mentioned that the Dark Lord was wearing his family signet ring during his final year in Hogwarts. When I came of age and met the Dark Lord for the first time, I noticed he wasn’t wearing any ring. He must’ve hidden it.”</p><p>“He hid it under the floorboards of the Gaunt ancestral home,” Harry confirmed.</p><p>“So, the Horcruxes are things that have meaning to him then?” Malfoy asked. “What are the others? Or are you trying to figure that out as well?”</p><p>Harry ignored the jab but he couldn’t ignore the way Hermione’s fork scraped against the porcelain plate loudly. He winced at the sound before turning back to Malfoy. Harry needed to be prepared to deescalate the situation because once Hermione opened her mouth, Wizarding War III was sure to happen.</p><p>“Professor Dumbledore… he was looking for a locket he believed to be a Horcrux. When we got there, the locket was gone, replaced by an imitation,” he pulled the fake locket out of his drawstring pouch and slid it towards Malfoy. “Someone got to it before we did.”</p><p>Malfoy tentatively picked it up, carefully turning it over and over in his hand to look at it more closely. “This is Slytherin’s locket.”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Someone left a note. Do you know anyone with R.A.B. as their initials?”</p><p>Seconds passed as Malfoy leaned back against the chair, a pensive look on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure out who R.A.B. was considering you were close with his older brother.” At Harry’s confused expression, Malfoy continued. “R.A.B. stands for Regulus Arcturus Black. Sirius’ younger brother.”</p><p>Collective gasps came from the three Gryffindors on the other side of the table.</p><p>“But Sirius told me Vol—You-Know-Who killed him for defecting!”</p><p>“Typical Gryffindors. Ready to believe the first thing they hear,” Malfoy rolled his eyes at him. “Regulus mysteriously disappeared in 1979. The Dark Lord suspected that he was taken by the Order and had tasked Bella to find and return him safely. She had searched for her cousin for years even after the Dark Lord’s downfall until she was caught by the Aurors torturing the Longbottoms for information in 1981. Regulus was devoted to the cause and had no reason to defect.”</p><p>Harry leaned forward and passed the letter to Malfoy. “Then how do you explain that?”</p><p>He watched as Malfoy read the letter’s contents silently, pale blue eyes moving left to right at rapid speed. “So, he might have betrayed the cause, but I’m sure we had nothing to do with his death. Why else would the Dark Lord waste his most loyal follower’s time looking for a dead man?”</p><p>Harry threw his hands up. “Oh, I don’t know! Probably so Bellatrix wouldn’t exact vengeance on You-Know-Who for killing her cousin!”</p><p>“Then you don’t know Bella at all,” Malfoy stated. “She’d gladly kill Regulus as soon as she had found out that he had turned to the other side,” he cocked his head to the side, a taunting smirk on his face before he added: “Just like how she killed his older brother.”</p><p>Harry stood abruptly, the chair he was sitting on was thrown back. “Fuck you, Malfoy!” he yelled. Sirius’ death was something Harry still couldn’t let go of. He had carried the guilt ever since he saw Bellatrix’s killing curse hit his godfather squarely on the chest. If it weren’t for his recklessness, Sirius would’ve been alive right now. Harry felt his insides shaking with pure anger at the memory of it. His scar had started tingling, reminding him of last night’s nightmare.</p><p>The blonde woman, Harry wondered if it was—</p><p>“Such language, Potter,” Malfoy tutted. “Did your mother taught you that? Oh no, wait, she didn’t because she's dead.”</p><p>“Your family will be too if you keep that up!” he snapped.</p><p>“What did you just say?” Malfoy had also risen from his chair and was now staring daggers at Harry. The two of them had reached down towards their respective wands but before either of them could pull it out and aim at each other, Harry caught a flash of movement from his peripheral vision and flinched when Hermione’s hand was slammed against the table, rattling everything on it.</p><p>“ENOUGH!” she yelled. The dark tendrils on her forehead were swept away by a strong current of magic flowing through her. Harry took a step back, afraid that Hermione might perform accidental magic. Ginny was standing now as well and was looking at Hermione warily. “Will you two stop this stupidity?”</p><p>“And you!” she spat in Malfoy’s direction. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Do you get off on provoking everyone?”</p><p>A shadow of something ugly passed across Malfoy’s face. He stood up straight, no longer relaxed, a hint of viciousness in his cold gaze. Harry now realized that Hermione’s outburst was merely a continuation of whatever it was that occurred before they came here. He closed his hand around his wand, ready to jump between the two the moment they did any sudden movement.</p><p>“I was only stating facts, Miss Granger,” Malfoy’s voice was dry, a dark warning in the undercurrent. “It’s not my problem if he can’t handle it.”</p><p>“Stating facts!” Hermione scoffed. “Here I thought I’m the know-it-all swot.”</p><p>“Children, children,” Ginny raised her arms placatingly. “All this bickering is becoming tiresome. We’re getting off track here and the breakfast is getting cold.” She pointed to the remaining food on the table.</p><p><em> Thank heavens for Ginny</em>, Harry internally sighed. Everyone eventually sat back in their respective seats with Hermione still glaring at Malfoy across the table.</p><p>“I think we should go and check out Grimmauld Place,” Harry finally said and Hermione’s glare was suddenly directed at him.</p><p>“Are you out of your mind? It’s not safe there, Harry. Snape could be there or worse—”</p><p>“Ginny’s dad said that they’ve placed jinxes there to prevent him from getting in and even if he managed to dispel them, I think the three of us can overpower him,” he said confidently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy roll his eyes but Harry chose to ignore him. “C’mon, Hermione. It’s the only chance we’ve got at finding the locket.”</p><p>Hermione’s face softened a little as she pondered it over in her mind. Harry could feel the gears in her brain shifting. “What about him?” she gestured in Malfoy’s direction.</p><p>“I’m here, you know,” Malfoy looked bored, his familiar baritone darkly uninterested.</p><p>Harry continued to ignore him. “We have to take him with us. You two have that vow after all.”</p><p>“Fine,” Hermione groaned. “We need to prepare first. Store up some necessary items before leaving. And if I caught one whiff of trouble when we get there, we’re apparating out immediately.”</p><p><em> Compromise</em>, Harry thought as he nodded in agreement. It was the only way to appease Hermione sometimes.</p><p>“A field trip!” Ginny clapped her hands together. “When do we leave?”</p><p>Harry shared a look with Hermione before replying.</p><p>“This afternoon.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let me know what you guys think. Next chapter is their merry excursion to Grimmauld Place.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Master's Bidding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the quite so late updates. Work and life have been consuming me lately.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>MASTER'S BIDDING.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>AUGUST 2, 1997 (Afternoon).</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione sighed for the third time as she sat by the couch in her mother’s parlor room. Ginny and Harry were standing across her, talking in hushed tones. Hermione wondered what was happening with the two now. Last she heard, Harry had decided to call it quits between him and Ginny to protect her but that would make things difficult now that she was on the run here with them. Hermione loved Ginny like a sister but she couldn’t help but wish that it was Ron who was here instead of her. A loaded sigh escaped Hermione’s lips again at the thought of him.</p><p>“I think we should check up on Malfoy,” Ginny said to everyone in the room. “It’s been half an hour and he’s still upstairs. He might’ve slipped and knocked his head or he probably has no clue how to use the Muggle bathtub.”</p><p>Eager for something to do other than sit idly, Hermione jumped off the couch and volunteered to go fetch the blond aristocrat. She saw that Harry was about to say something so she turned on her heels and stalked off to the spare guest room she had dropped Malfoy off a while ago to clean himself up. Hermione was still a bit pissed at him from their earlier argument but it was better than being interrogated by her quite perceptive friend. She knew from Harry’s glances during breakfast that he was itching to question her about what happened as soon as they were alone.</p><p>Once she reached the door, she knocked thrice before calling out Malfoy’s name. When no one answered, she opened the door and peered inside. There was no sign of him and the Muggle clothes she had laid by the bed were still there, untouched. It was her father’s clothes which she magically altered to fit Malfoy who was taller and bulkier than her father.</p><p>“Mr. Malfoy?” she tried again.</p><p>“In here,” a muffled voice called out from the other side of the bathroom door.</p><p>Hermione made her way over and pushed the door open. “You need to hurry—”</p><p>The words got stuck in her throat at the sight of a half-naked Lucius Malfoy standing by the sink. Hermione knew that the decent thing to do right now was to turn around and wait for him outside but her feet wouldn’t move. Her eyes traveled all the way from how the fluffy white towel was clinging snugly around his very lean hips, to the flat stomach, the glistening pecs, and the strong shoulders, all the way to his half-shaven face. <em>Gods, is he really Draco’s father?</em> she wondered. Hermione couldn’t remember the abomination that her classmate being this—for lack of a better word because her brain suddenly stopped properly functioning—unbelievably <em>fit</em>. Maybe the ferret inherited from his mother’s side.</p><p>She remembered last night, how she had felt Malfoy’s firm chest when she fell on top of him and the memory was now being replaced by his naked torso. <em>Fuck, fuck, fuck!</em></p><p>“My eyes are up here, Miss Granger,” a gasp escaped Hermione as she realized she had been staring at his chest longer than appropriate, her gaze immediately snapped up to meet with Malfoy’s, and a much louder gasp escaped her lips this time when she noticed his chin and jaw were bleeding. Rivulets of blood trickled down his neck from the tiny nicks and cuts he’d made in his skin. Finally coming out of her stupor, she saw that Malfoy was holding a razor in his hand, his broken wand was sitting on the sink, behind the faucet.</p><p>“You’re supposed to put shaving cream over it,” Hermione huffed, the initial embarrassment of seeing him half-naked was gone, replaced by annoyance and slight worry. “How did you ever survive being an adult if you can’t even shave properly?”</p><p>“That’s what house-elves are for.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes and proceeded to open the mirror cabinet, rummaging for the shaving cream. She shook the can before looking at Malfoy skeptically.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Do you trust me?” she asked.</p><p>“No,” he simply said.</p><p>“Fair enough,” she sighed before plucking the razor from his hand. “But we need to get going and you’re taking too long.”</p><p>Surprisingly, Malfoy turned around and sat on the edge of the bathtub before gesturing to his face. <em>If only he’s always this cooperative.</em> “Be my guest.”</p><p>Hermione gulped down the nervousness that was creeping in. She had seen her mother shave her father’s beard when she was young and looking back now, she realized that it was such an intimate moment, the way their faces were so close to each other.</p><p>“I thought you were in a hurry?” Malfoy drawled, looking completely bored out of his mind.</p><p>“We are. Now be quiet and let me do this," Hermione said, moving closer to him. She ended up having to stand between Malfoy’s legs to be able to shave him properly and the movement caused the towel to hitch higher, revealing the rest of his pale white thighs to her. As she gently turned Malfoy's head to get a better angle, Hermione tried not to think about how close she was standing to him. She poured a small amount of shaving cream into her hands before rubbing it over his skin. She could feel the muscle move under her hands and bit the inside of her cheek to not run her nails over it lightly again.</p><p>If he were Ron, she wouldn’t be this nervous. But Malfoy wasn't Ron, a small voice in her head reminded her as she touched the razor to his skin and started working in silence. It took her a few strokes until she got the hang of it, because this was vastly different from shaving her legs, and she really didn't want to cut him no matter how much he infuriated her. If she did, he'll never live it down.</p><p>After the last stroke, she dropped the razor in the sink and used a washcloth to clean his skin. She suddenly became aware of him staring at her face and not at her hands and felt herself blushing.</p><p>"There, all smooth now," she told him, stepping aside for him to get up. “We have to do something about those cuts though. They’re still bleeding.”</p><p>She went back to the cabinet, looking for a bandaid when a large hand clamped over hers, stopping her immediately. Hermione jumped at the sudden close proximity, Malfoy’s naked torso was only a few inches away and she could practically feel the heat coming off from him. He smelled of aftershave and lavender—completely different from the citrus and earthly scent she had come to associate with him.</p><p>“You’re a witch, are you not?” he purred, voice quite close to her ear and she tried her best to not visibly shiver. “You have a wand. Use it.”</p><p>Hermione’s nostrils flared at the statement. After the shite she just did for him, this was how he repaid her? By mocking her Muggle methods?</p><p>“You’re a wizard, are you not? Then use your wand!” she snapped at him before stomping her way out of the bathroom. She knew his wand was broken and Hermione knew she was being petty right now but the man in front of her just always constantly found ways to rile her up.</p><p>“What happened?” Harry asked as soon as he saw Hermione entered the parlor room.</p><p>“Nothing,” Hermione plopped down onto the sofa, ignoring Harry’s questioning look.</p><p>“Well, is he still alive at least?” it was Ginny who asked this time.</p><p>“Unfortunately.”</p><p>Hermione heard the two sighed in relief. She turned her head away and proceeded to fume in silence.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Lucius pulled the collar of his shirt up before flattening it down along his neck. He wanted to see how he looked like in these Muggle clothes but there were no full-body mirrors inside the room. The navy blue shirt fitted quite snugly and it didn’t restrict his movements but the trousers were still up for debate.</p><p>Granger called them <em>jeans</em>. And Lucius saw that Potter was also wearing one. He had to admit that it was much roomier and lighter than his typical clothing and, if he was being honest with himself, quite comfortable as well, but the texture felt odd especially if he was not wearing any underpants.</p><p>He ran a finger across his now stubble-free jaw and sighed, remembering how Granger’s hands deftly massaged the shaving cream onto his skin. Lucius can’t remember the last time someone had caressed his face that way, had gently touched him with so much tenderness and care that he didn’t even flinch knowing she was a Mudblood. Even Narcissa, his wife of almost twenty years, only showed her affection for him in the form of a quick peck on the cheek. It was disconcerting, the way he got lost in the moment. How he had felt a few minutes of peace in her presence that when she had stepped away, a sense of emptiness washed over him. And to gain some semblance of control, he did the only thing he knew best: he angered her.</p><p>Lucius regretted it the moment he heard the door slammed shut in his face. His jaw was still bleeding and his wand was lying broken by the sink. He should’ve asked her to heal him first before sending her away but her existence was unsettling him. It was a good thing that he knew about bandaids and other Muggle methods of healing from Severus.</p><p>Glancing at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, Lucius debated for a moment whether to keep his Death Eater robes or leave them there before settling with the latter. His Death Eater mask already got lost in the chaos during the mission and he might as well not bring the rest of his regalia along.</p><p>As he entered the parlor room, he immediately spied Granger on the far end of the room, eyes looking anywhere but him while Weasley and Potter were gaping at him in shock.</p><p>“Oh, my god,” Weasley gasped before pointing in his direction with both of her hands. “You look human!”</p><p>Lucius glared at the chit. He then flicked his eyes to Potter, daring the boy to say a word about his clothes.</p><p>Potter only blinked at him a few times before turning towards Granger. “We should go.”</p><p>“Should we apparate directly inside?” Weasley asked.</p><p>Granger shook her head. “We don’t know if the wards will accept him,” she tilted her head in Lucius’ direction and he hated how she spoke like he wasn’t just standing there a few feet away from her. “We have to apparate outside.”</p><p>“We should bring out our wands just in case they’re waiting for us,” Potter and Granger pulled out their wands from their pockets. “Hermione, are you alright side-apparating the three of us?”</p><p>Granger pursed her lips in thought. “I think I can.” She held both of her hands for them to take. Weasley grabbed her left hand while Potter placed his hand around her bicep. That left Lucius her right hand. The one she used to hold the razor across his stubble earlier.</p><p>He suddenly realized that he’d been staring at her hand way too long when someone cleared their throat and he looked up to see Weasley impatiently tapping her foot.</p><p>Lucius clenched his jaw as he closed the distance between them and slipped his hand in hers. Something dark and warm flowed through him all the way to his chest and he noticed that he wasn’t the only one affected. A gasp escaped Granger’s lips at the contact but she still refused to look in his direction. He hardly had any time to ponder it further before he was suddenly squeezed through time and space, and into the dark void.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The apparition wasn’t as pleasant and smooth as he was accustomed to and he nearly stumbled if it weren’t for Granger herself holding his hand in a vice grip but considering that she was transporting three people, well, Lucius could grudgingly give her that especially since none of them seemed to be splinched.</p><p>Granger only let go of his hand when Potter asked her to do a quick sweeping check of their surroundings to make sure that no one was waiting for them behind the bushes. Looking at the row of tall, dilapidated houses, Lucius noticed a gap. Number twelve was missing and he couldn’t see it despite being inside that house countless times before it became the Order’s headquarters two years ago.</p><p><em>So, this is how a fidelius charm works</em>, he mused.</p><p>When Potter gave the all-clear, Lucius felt his left arm tingling and his heart quickened its beating when he realized that his Dark Mark was quite faintly glowing.</p><p>“It’s not safe to stay out in the open much longer,” he said as he hastily tugged the sleeves of his shirt down to cover the glowing tattoo. “They might be hiding out there, waiting for the right moment.”</p><p>“I don’t see anyone,” Potter shrugged. “But I guess we should head inside.”</p><p>Weasley nodded her head in agreement and pulled out her wand to tap it against something invisible. And just like that, 12 Grimmauld Place began to slowly exist in front of Lucius, very much like the enchanted walls that separated Diagon Alley from the Muggle public. They all hurried inside and as soon as Potter closed the door, the gas lamps lining the hallway lit up, casting a flickering light into the gloomy space in front of them.</p><p>It looked just as Lucius remembered it: eerie, cobwebbed, the outlines of the house-elf heads on the wall throwing odd shadows up the staircase. The last time he had been here was when Orion threw a party for Regulus after taking the Dark Mark. There was a long, dark curtain to the side and the familiar troll’s leg umbrella stand, which was now lying on its side as if it was knocked over by someone.</p><p>Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who noticed this.</p><p>“I think someone’s been here,” Granger whispered to Potter and Weasley as she pointed to the umbrella stand.</p><p>“The Order did vacate the house. One of them, probably Tonks, knocked it over,” Weasley answered.</p><p>“So, where is this jinx your father is talking about?”</p><p>Weasley pouted her lips and shrugged. “Maybe it’ll activate if Snape shows up.”</p><p>“Well, we can’t stay here forever,” Potter said yet the three of them remained close together on the doormat, backs against the door, scared to move farther into the house.</p><p>Lucius sighed, deciding to be the one to make the first move but stopped when a deep, raspy voice spoke from the darkness.</p><p>“<em>Severus Snape?</em>”</p><p>Something cold washed over Lucius and he felt his tongue curl backward on itself, making it impossible to speak. Before he had time to feel inside his mouth, however, his tongue had unraveled again. The other three seemed to have experienced the same unpleasant sensation as well. He heard Weasley made retching noises; while Granger stammered behind him, “That m-must have b-been the jinx!”</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter took a step forward as well and Lucius immediately saw something shifted in the shadows at the far end of the hall. And before any of them could pull out their wands, a figure had risen out of the carpet, tall, dust-colored, and terrible. He heard Granger scream and the curtains beside him suddenly flew open, revealing Walburga Black’s painting who was also screaming bloody murder at them. The ghastly figure was gliding toward them, faster and faster now, its waist-length hair and beard streaming behind it, its face sunken, fleshless, with empty eye sockets and one of its hands looked like it was rotting. Lucius realized with a start that it was Albus Dumbledore.</p><p>Potter was shouting something and before it could touch them, the ghost-Dumbledore exploded in a great cloud of dust. Everyone was coughing, eyes watering, and Lucius looked around to see Granger and Weasley clutching each other like a lifeline. Potter was shaking from head to foot, still blankly staring ahead of him.</p><p>"That's the jinx you're talking about? As if that'll prevent Severus or anyone from going inside," Lucius scoffed while internally lamenting about needing to take another shower because of the dust that covered his entire body.</p><p>Beside him, Walburga Black’s portrait continued screaming, making Lucius jump at the high-pitched sound.</p><p>“<em>Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, the taint of shame on the house of my fathers—</em>”</p><p>Potter silenced the portrait while Granger, who had seemed recovered by now, cast a series of spells over the door just in case someone breached the fidelius charm.</p><p>“Is it safe to go now?” Weasley asked.</p><p>“I think we’d better check,” Granger answered before raising her wand. “Homenum revelio.”</p><p>When the spell revealed nothing, the three of them went upstairs to the drawing-room. Granger waved her wand to ignite the old gas lamps before perching herself on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her. Weasley followed her and Lucius was about to sit on the other vacant chair when Potter suddenly doubled over and clutched his forehead, giving a cry of pain.</p><p>“Harry!” Weasley shouted as she and Granger slid beside him. Potter sat on the floor when he had finally recovered.</p><p>“You’ve got to close your mind, Harry!” Granger said in a frightened tone. “You know it’s dangerous!”</p><p>Lucius knew about the mind connection. It was how the Dark Lord fed Potter the false images about Sirius Black being tortured, how they managed to lure him out in the Department of Mysteries. It was useful back then but right now, he agreed with Granger—not that Lucius would admit it out loud. It would be dangerous for him if the Dark Lord found out about what they were trying to achieve and if he knew that Lucius was helping them.</p><p>“I’m trying!” Potter gasped, still recovering from the pain. “It’s hard to block him when he’s feeling very angry.”</p><p>“You’ve got to try harder, Potter,” Lucius said. “You wouldn’t want to endanger your friends by disclosing your location to the Dark Lord.”</p><p>“Shut up, Malfoy!” Potter hissed, sending Lucius a scathing look. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew where he is right now and what he is doing.”</p><p>A cold, dark feeling settled over his chest, making his heart drop. “What did you see?”</p><p>The flash of guilt and pity that briefly passed over Potter’s features was enough of an answer to Lucius. He strode over and yanked Potter by the collar, ignoring the protests from the two women, before shoving him onto the nearest wall. Lucius lifted Potter and pressed his arm against the boy’s neck, anchoring him and choking him at the same time.</p><p>He pronounced each word with all the power he could muster. “What. Did. You. See?”</p><p>“Let him go!”</p><p>Potter’s face was turning a bright shade of red, his veins popping out of his neck and jaw as he struggled to break free, nails digging into Lucius’ arm.</p><p>“Your… wife…” he wheezed. “Torture—”</p><p>“Depulso!”</p><p>Lucius was suddenly flung across the room, his back hitting the wall before slumping down. The impact made his head spin momentarily and he saw Weasley crouched near Potter, patting his back clumsily.</p><p>“What is your problem?!” Granger yelled as she stormed over him, her wand pointed in his face. “You could’ve killed him!”</p><p>“That would solve all my problems then, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. It wasn’t Potter’s fault that his wife was being tortured right now but he had let his emotions dictate his actions. Lucius saw the blow coming—the tilt of her shoulder, hitch in her breathing—but allowed it nonetheless when Granger slapped him viciously across the face. The slap landed with a jarring, stinging crack against his cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh bounced off the walls. Draco wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Granger packed a mean punch but Lucius barely flinched, his fierce blue eyes locked on hers as her lashes began to glisten with tears.</p><p>He thought he gained more satisfaction from it than she did. Granger shook out her tingling hand, the same hand that held him only minutes ago. The same hand that shaved his face.</p><p>Why was that so easy for her? Didn't she know how many people were afraid of him? How many people screamed for his mercy? It was almost as many as the Dark Lord’s victims.</p><p>"You <em>bastard</em>," she ground out, desperate to control the shaking in her voice.</p><p>“Au contraire, my dear. My parents were married when I was born,” Lucius said softly, his hand coming up to cup his cheek. He rose to his full height as Granger took a step back. Lucius grabbed her arm with his free hand while she was still within arm’s reach. Leaning down, he whispered threateningly to her ear. The familiar scent of vanilla briefly invaded his sense of smell. “Not many can get away with that unscathed, Miss Granger. Consider yourself lucky that we have that vow.”</p><p>Lucius shoved her arm away in disgust before turning around to leave the room.</p><p>He had some planning and consideration to do.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Harry gripped the sink tightly with both his hands, the counter’s edge was cold and hard as he stared at the mirror in front of him. He remained like that for long moments, him leaning on the counter for support and trying to remember how to breathe. His neck still throbbed from being pressed down by Malfoy but he was fine otherwise although nearly losing his consciousness was something Harry wouldn’t want to experience again.</p><p>He wasn’t angry at Malfoy for acting the way he did. Harry understood the feeling of helplessness, of being unable to save someone you cared about. He can still see how You-Know-Who repeatedly cursed Mrs. Malfoy over and over and he was sure that Voldemort intended to kill her if it weren’t for Bellatrix intervening.</p><p>That was what boggled Harry the most. Bellatrix pleaded for the life of her sister. It contradicted what Malfoy had said earlier about the crazy witch who killed Harry’s godfather.</p><p>
  <em>She’d gladly kill Regulus as soon as she had found out that he had turned to the other side.</em>
</p><p>It wasn’t making any sense to Harry and only served to give him a worse headache. He removed his glasses and splashed some water on his face before heading back to the drawing-room. Ginny and Hermione immediately looked up at the sound of his footsteps.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked. “How’s your neck?”</p><p>“Fine,” he flopped down on an empty chair next to them. “Honestly, Hermione. My head hurts more than my neck.”</p><p>“He shouldn’t have done that,” she pursed her lips.</p><p>“I was kind of worried about you there for a second,” Ginny said to Hermione.</p><p>“Me? Why?”</p><p>“Well, you did slap Malfoy Senior there,” she said. “I was worried he might choke you to death as well.”</p><p>“Where is he by the way?” Harry asked. “Is he still here?”</p><p>“He’s still here. My wards on the door would’ve alerted me if he left the house,” Hermione answered.</p><p>“We should leave him be,” Harry sighed, not wishing another altercation with the Malfoy patriarch. They can’t keep fighting all the time. “I think we should go and check Regulus’s room before we eat dinner.”</p><p>They started to climb the stairs by wandlight. On the second landing was the bedroom in which he and Ron had slept last time they had been here; he glanced into it. The wardrobe doors stood open and the bedclothes had been ripped back. Harry remembered the overturned troll leg downstairs. Somebody had searched the house since the Order had left. <em>Snape?</em> Or perhaps Mundungus, who had pilfered plenty from this house both before and after Sirius died? Harry’s gaze wandered to the portrait that sometimes contained Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius’s great, great-grandfather, but it was empty, showing nothing but a stretch of muddy backdrop. Phineas Nigellus was evidently spending the night in the headmaster’s study at Hogwarts.</p><p>“Someone was really here and it looks like they were searching for something.”</p><p>“Who do you reckon it could be?” Ginny asked.</p><p>“It could be anyone,” Hermione answered. “We should be cautious though. They might’ve laid some traps.”</p><p>Harry continued up the stairs until he reached the topmost landing, where there were only two doors. The one facing him bore a nameplate reading <em>SIRIUS</em>. Harry had never entered his godfather’s bedroom before and he had no plans on entering it now. He didn’t think he could bear to be in a room surrounded by reminders of his godfather’s life.</p><p>Harry felt someone squeezed his shoulder and look to see Hermione giving him a pitying look.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he whispered, mostly for his assurance than hers.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>They continued past it towards the second door. There were deep scratch marks in the paintwork below a small sign. He paused at the top of the stairs to read it. It was a pompous little sign, neatly lettered by hand, the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might have stuck on his bedroom door:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>Do Not Enter<br/></em> <em>Without the Express Permission of<br/></em> <em>Regulus Arcturus Black</em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“This is it,” Ginny traced the letters on the sign with her index finger.</p><p>“Let’s find out if he’s the R.A.B. on the locket,” said Harry. He pushed the door: It was locked. Hermione pointed her wand at the handle and said, “Alohomora.” There was a click, and the door swung open.</p><p>The room was slightly smaller than Sirius’s though it was as ostentatious. Slytherin colors of emerald and silver decorated the entirety of it. Under the bed, Harry found a collection of newspaper cuttings from the Daily Prophet, all stuck together to make a ragged collage.</p><p>“Wow,” Ginny whistled. “Malfoy wasn’t lying when he said that Regulus was a fanatic even before he became a Death Eater.”</p><p>“But if he’s the one who stole the locket,” Hermione pondered aloud. “Then what happened that made him defect from You-Know-Who?”</p><p>Harry handed the clippings to Hermione. A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read it while Harry and Ginny continued to look around the room for likely hiding places and approached the desk. Yet again, somebody had searched before them. The drawers’ contents had been turned over recently, the dust disturbed, but there was nothing of value there: old quills, out-of-date textbooks that bore evidence of being roughly handled, a recently smashed ink bottle, its sticky residue covering the contents of the drawer.</p><p>“We can try Accio-ing the locket?” Ginny offered.</p><p>Harry raised his wand and uttered the spell but nothing happened.</p><p>“There might be counter-enchantments that concealed it,” Hermione, who had been busy reading the clippings about Voldemort, looked disappointed. “I don’t think Regulus would just stuff it in a place that’s easy to find.”</p><p>“How the bloody hell are we supposed to find it then?” asked Harry frustratedly. “We can’t just go over the entire house and search it manually.”</p><p>Silence descended over them as they pondered over what to do until they heard Ginny gasped. “No.”</p><p>“What is it, Gin?”</p><p>“The first time we were here, Mum made us clean the entire place. I remember Fred found a locket inside the cabinet in the drawing-room. We all tried to open it but we couldn’t so we… we…”</p><p>Harry felt his insides go cold. He remembered that as well. They tossed that locket along with the other pile of rubbish.</p><p>“Kreacher,” Hermione said. “He probably kept some of those things out of sentimentality—”</p><p>Harry didn’t hear the rest of what she was trying to say as he bounded down the stairs two or three steps at a time. He caught a flash of red on his peripheral and noticed Ginny keeping up with him while Hermione was not far behind. They made so much noise that they woke Walburga Black’s painting as they sped past it.</p><p>“<em>Filth! Mudbloods! Scum!</em>” she screamed after them as they dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them.  </p><p>But Kreacher wasn’t in his cupboard which contained a nest of dirty old blankets.</p><p>“Kreacher!” Harry called loudly. There was a deafening crack by the fireplace and the house-elf that he had so reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere. Kreacher was still wearing the filthy rag in which they had first met him, and the contemptuous look he bent upon Harry showed that his attitude to his change of ownership had altered no more than his outfit.</p><p>“Master Potter,” the elf bowed as low as he could manage but his voice dripped of contempt. </p><p>“I need you to tell me something,” said Harry, his heart beating rather fast as he looked down at the elf, “no, wait, I order you to answer my question and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?”</p><p>“Yes, Master,” said Kreacher who remained bowed.</p><p>“There was a locket in the drawing-room upstairs. When we threw it away, did you steal it back?”</p><p>There was a moment’s silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, “Yes.”</p><p>Harry heard Ginny and Hermione sighed in relief behind him. “Where is it now?”</p><p>Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word and Harry felt his heart drop at the word. “Gone.”</p><p>“Gone? What do you mean, it’s gone?” Harry said fiercely, “Kreacher, I order you—”</p><p>“Mundungus Fletcher,” croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. “Mundungus Fletcher stole it all even— even—” Kreacher was gulping for air. His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream. “—the locket, Master Regulus’s locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!”</p><p>The three of them acted instinctively and rushed to prevent Kreacher from hurting himself. Harry and Ginny held the elf down while Hermione pulled the poker away from his gnarly fingers.</p><p>“I order you to stay still and not punish yourself!” He felt the elf freeze and he and Ginny released him. Kreacher stood there, tears gushing from his sagging eyes. “Now tell me everything you saw and everything about that locket. I order you to tell the entire truth.”</p><p>Kreacher then told his Master how he saw Mundungus Fletcher come out of the elf’s cupboard with his hands full of the Black family possessions Kreacher had kept. How Kreacher tried to stop the thief and failed. He also told Harry the story about the locket. How Regulus asked Kreacher to do whatever the Dark Lord bid the elf to do and to come home once it was done. Kreacher told them about the cave and the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. Kreacher’s croaking voice seemed to come to him from across that dark water. Harry saw what had happened as clearly as though he had been present.</p><p>“But how did you get away?” Harry was surprised that his voice sounded low as if he was whispering. “I know that Regulus asked you to come back but how?”</p><p>Kreacher fidgeted his spindly fingers before looking at Harry with his bloodshot, confused eyes. “Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he said.</p><p>“I know, but you couldn’t have apparated in and out of that cave,” Harry ran his fingers through his hair. “Dumbledore and I would’ve apparated away if we could.”</p><p>“Remember what I told you about elf magic when I started S.P.E.W.?” Hermione spoke, her voice icy. “Elf magic is vastly different from wizard’s magic. They’re not bound by the same rules as us witches and wizards. They don’t need wands to perform heavy magic and they can even apparate and disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can’t.”</p><p>Silence descended upon them as they digested Hermione’s words. It did make sense in a way. Harry wondered how Voldemort could overlook such a thing. A deep voice behind him suddenly spoke, making him visibly jump. Kreacher looked up, eyes wide and it was probably taking a lot of effort from the elf not to grovel in front of the newcomer.</p><p>“A house-elf’s highest law is his Master’s bidding,” Lucius Malfoy said as he entered the kitchen like he didn’t just try to choke Harry to death moments ago. He was a bit worried about Malfoy’s calm behavior but shook it off. “Regulus ordered him to come home, so the elf came home.”</p><p>Harry felt Hermione stiffened beside him. Whatever was going on with his friend, Harry will get to the bottom of it, but for now, they need to find that thief. He knelt in front of Kreacher and looked him squarely in the eyes.</p><p>“I need you to do something for me, Kreacher. I want you to find Mundungus Fletcher for me and bring him back here in Grimmauld Place,” Harry refrained from looking at Hermione for approval. He tried to speak to the elf kindly but he also wanted Kreacher to know that it’s an order as well. “We need to find out where the locket is so… so we could finally finish what Master Regulus started.”</p><p>“Find Mundungus Fletcher?” Kreacher croaked.</p><p>Harry nodded and watched as Kreacher bowed low to him before disappearing with a loud crack.</p><p>“And now we wait.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hermione glanced warily every now and then at Malfoy. The four of them decided to retreat to the drawing-room while they waited for Kreacher to come back. They had been waiting for three hours and it was half-past eight now but none of them felt like eating dinner. Hermione wasn’t worried about the elf. If Kreacher could escape a lake full of inferi, she was sure that Kreacher could easily capture someone like Mundungus Fletcher. No, it was not the waiting, the elf, or Harry’s vision that was bothering her. It was the blond git sitting across her who was staring pensively into the empty fireplace.</p><p>She was suspicious about him. Well, she had always been suspicious of him but this time, she became even more so.</p><p>When Malfoy tried to choke Harry, Hermione thought that he would let her friend go once Harry told him what Malfoy wanted to know but when he wasn’t letting up and Harry’s neck was turning a deep shade of purple, she had to act.</p><p>Rage. Power rippled through her as she pointed her wand at him and cast the banishing charm. For a moment Hermione thought she went too far and had gravely hurt Malfoy but his next word only made her see red.</p><p>
  <em>You could’ve killed him!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That would solve all my problems then, wouldn’t it?</em>
</p><p>The thought of Harry dead carved something deep within Hermione’s chest. She suddenly remembered her parents and how the proverbial knife slid through her heart when she obliviated them. Harry was her only family now and she would tear through heaven and hell just to keep him alive.</p><p>And then she slapped Malfoy with all the physical strength she could muster. <em>How dare he!</em> It felt satisfying, the power she had over him at that moment, the way he was placed beneath her. That was until the quiet rage that flashed across his face made her take a small step back, remembering who it was she had just physically hurt.</p><p>To her utmost relief, Malfoy only stormed away but ever since then, Hermione kept a close eye on her surroundings. The lack of presence from him only served to heighten her anxiety and when he suddenly appeared behind them in the kitchen looking so calm like he didn’t just have an explosive tantrum a while ago, Hermione almost broke her wand in half with the way she gripped it so tightly.</p><p>Now here they were. Sitting in a room awaiting Kreacher’s return. No one dared to break the tensed silence except when Ginny asked an hour ago if any of them wanted to eat dinner.</p><p>Hermione decided to continue reading the book Dumbledore had bequeathed her. <em>The Tales of Beedle the Bard.</em> The book was fascinating even if you read it as an adult. There were instances where it was similar to Muggle fairy tales but one thing Hermione liked the most about these stories was that the author’s witches were much more active in seeking their fortunes than the Muggle fairy-tale heroines. When Ron told them that he knew about these stories growing up, Hermione felt a pang of jealousy at that.</p><p>She was just about to turn to the next story when a thundering crack came downstairs.</p><p>A mass of struggling limbs was what greeted them in the kitchen. Harry pulled out his wand as soon as Kreacher disentangled himself from his captive and made a low bow to his Master.</p><p>“Kreacher has returned with the thief, Mundungus Fletcher, Master.”</p><p>“I’m no thief!” Mundungus scrambled to get himself upright and was disarmed immediately by Harry before he could even raise his wand. It soared in the air and was caught by Hermione. “What’s the meaning of this? I didn’t do anything!”</p><p>“Quit the act, Mundungus,” Harry snapped. “We all know what you are and what you did.”</p><p>“I panicked, okay? You-Know-Who was coming straight at us an’ I didn’t want to die. I didn’t even want to come along, never volunteer for that shite. I’m—”</p><p>“None of us ran away with their tails tucked between their legs,” Ginny hissed. Hermione could tell she was about to hex Mundungus.</p><p>“Well, I’m not suicidal enough like the lot of you,” Mundungus scoffed and that was when he noticed the other occupant in the room. “What’s he doing here? Is he a prisoner or something? You do know he’s one of them, right?”</p><p>Harry stepped in front of Mundungus’ vision, obscuring Malfoy who was standing by the archway. “You don’t get to ask questions here,” Harry jabbed his wand under Mundungus’s flabby chin. “That day you looted this entire house of its valuables. There was a locket in the cupboard and Kreacher said you took it with you. I want to know where is it.”</p><p>“Why do you want it?” Mundungus narrowed his eyes at them.</p><p>“It’s none of your business,” Harry pushed his wand up further, tilting the thief’s head up. “Answer the question.”</p><p>“I’m not answering any questions,” Mundungus replied tersely before pursing his lips shut.</p><p>Hermione could see that Harry was nearing the end of his patience but before she could speak, Malfoy beat her to it.</p><p>“Allow me to take a crack at ol’ Mundungus here,” Malfoy uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to them. “I’m sure all he needs is a little persuasion.”</p><p>“I have nothing to say especially to a Death Eater scum like you. You think you’re better than me, Malfoy? Just because you live in a fancy house with fancy clothes doesn’t make you a better person. You’re rotten inside just like me,” Mundungus flashed them his crooked, yellow teeth.</p><p>But Malfoy only stared at Mundungus with a manic glint in his eyes that chilled Hermione’s bones. The Malfoy patriarch proceeded to open the kitchen drawers looking for something.</p><p>“Aha,” he pulled out a bread knife, running his thumb over the blade to test its sharpness. “I think this will do.”</p><p>“What are you doing?” Ginny asked.</p><p>“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know, Miss Weasley. Now, I suggest you three run along now back upstairs and let the grown-ups have a little talk.”</p><p>“We’re not going to leave you alone with him!” Hermione protested.</p><p>Malfoy sent her a deathly glare and she was about to respond by sending a hex at him when she felt Harry’s hands encircle her wrist.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go,” he said softly to her. Hermione was shocked.</p><p>“You’re just going to let him do whatever he wants?” she yelled. “What is wrong with you?”</p><p>“There’s nothing we can do,” Harry insisted before glancing back to the short wizard. “Unless Mundungus talks right now.”</p><p>But Mundungus merely looked away from Harry.</p><p>“I can’t believe this,” she said, exasperated. Hermione sent Malfoy one scathing look before storming out of the kitchens.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hermione was standing by the window looking down on the street below. It was almost ten in the evening now. The inky blackness of the sky swallowed the view outside.</p><p>“Hermione,” Harry tried again. He had been trying to talk to her but Hermione just couldn’t bear to face him right now. Of all the people she knew, Harry was the least likely she believed would encourage such a thing.</p><p>It had been almost fifteen minutes now and Malfoy still hadn’t come up. They’d heard screams downstairs and every single time it had gotten louder, the more Hermione wanted to come down and end it. If only Harry weren’t blocking the way.</p><p>It was inhumane, the way they were doing this, letting Malfoy torture someone for information.</p><p><em>Hypocrite</em>, a voice inside her head accused her and Hermione gritted her teeth together. The things she did before—the jinx she placed on the DA parchment, the way they left Umbridge in the Forbidden Forest—were things she had to do out of necessity. She never took any form of gratification from it, or so she tried to convince herself.</p><p>“Well, that was quick.”</p><p>Hermione looked behind to see Lucius Malfoy standing by the door, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, showing his Dark Mark. He was wiping something off his fingers—blood, to Hermione’s horror.</p><p>“What did you do to him?”</p><p>“Do you really want to know?” he smirked at her and Hermione felt her blood boiling again for the third time that day. “Don’t you worry your bleeding heart, Miss Granger. Mundungus is quite fine.”</p><p>“Did he talk?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Of course, he did,” Malfoy smugly said before frowning. “Although I don’t think you would like what he said.”</p><p>“Quit playing games, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “Where did he take the locket?”</p><p>“You’re no fun,” Malfoy sighed dramatically. “He gave it to someone, or rather, gave it unwillingly.”</p><p>“To who?”</p><p>At this, Malfoy grin mischievously at Harry. “Why, your best friend, of course. Dolores Umbridge.”</p><p>“Shit,” Hermione heard Harry muttered.</p><p>“Not again,” Ginny said before plopping down onto the sofa. She then looked up to Hermione and Harry. “What are we going to do about Mundungus? We can’t just release him. He might talk.”</p><p>“We’re not going to kill him!” Hermione said shrilly.</p><p>“I’m not suggesting we kill him!” Ginny said defensively.</p><p>“Shame,” Lucius clucked his tongue. “Well, if you’re not going to kill him then I suggest you obliviate him.”</p><p>The three of them looked at each other but Malfoy was looking directly at Hermione.</p><p>“I think Miss Granger should be the one to do it,” he suggested. “After all, she’s the expert at memory charms here.”</p><p>Alarm bells went ringing in Hermione’s mind and she wanted to strangle Malfoy then and there for bringing that up. She glanced warily at Harry out of the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction but she couldn’t quite make out his expression.</p><p>“Fine,” she seethed. Hermione purposely hit her shoulder against Malfoy’s arm on her way out but he only chuckled in return which infuriated her more.</p><p>Downstairs, in the kitchen, Mundungus sat unconscious. Hermione wondered what Malfoy did to cause such screaming since Mundungus didn’t sport any wounds on his face but her musings were soon cut short when she had gotten closer.</p><p>Hermione gasped as she saw seven of Mundungus’s fingernails were peeled off along with some of its skin. Blood was still oozing from the wound and she immediately healed it as best as she could. She knew that it wouldn’t cause permanent damage and the fingernails would soon grow back in time but still, it was inhumane, the way Malfoy did it. He didn’t even bother to heal what he did.</p><p>She pointed her wand at his temple and uttered the spell, erasing everything that occurred here while planting false memories as to how Mundungus ended up with seven fingernails missing. It was sickening and she was fighting the tears that threatened to come out. She didn’t want any part of this but it had to be done.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Hermione,” she heard Harry said from behind. When Hermione didn’t respond, he continued. “I was just so mad. I remembered how he abandoned Mad-Eye there to die and I wanted to make him pay.”</p><p>“This,” she pointed to Mundungus's hands. “This is what separates us from the likes of Malfoy, Harry. If we resort to these kinds of methods, we’re no better than him. The end doesn’t justify the means. Mundungus was right. He was in no obligation to risk his life and we shouldn’t hold that against him.”</p><p>“I know,” he pushed his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “Are you still mad?”</p><p>Right then, Hermione had a brief glimpse into Harry’s vulnerable side. The one that was unsure and insecure of himself. The one who second-guessed everything in his life. The one who had clung to any adult that showed him any affection.</p><p>“I am,” Hermione admitted. “But not at you.”</p><p>Harry seemed to understand who it was she was mad with. “What is happening between you and Malfoy?”</p><p>“Nothing. He just enjoys riling me up,” Hermione shrugged and decided to change the subject. “We need a plan on how to get inside the Ministry undetected. How do we even know if Umbridge still has the locket?"</p><p>“I have a feeling she still has it,” Harry glanced at Mundungus’s unconscious form. “I think we should ask Kreacher to return him where he found him.”</p><p>At Harry’s call, Kreacher appeared in front of them and Harry gave instructions to transport Mundungus safely near where Kreacher found him. But before Kreacher could disappear, Harry reached inside his drawstring pouch to give the elf the fake locket as a token of appreciation for his efforts earlier, and on cue, Kreacher started wailing, throwing himself on the floor.</p><p>It took Harry and Hermione a good ten minutes before they managed to calm the elf down. They accompanied him to the cupboard where Kreacher tucked the locket safely inside the nest of dirty blankets. He then made a low bow to Harry and somewhat of a little spasm that should resemble a bow as well to Hermione. <em>It was a start</em>, she mused. The elf was probably having a cognitive dissonance right now.</p><p>As Kreacher disappeared with Mundungus, Harry suddenly stood straight and looked at Hermione with excitement in his eyes. “There’s someone here who knows the ins and out of the Ministry quite well.”</p><p>It took Hermione a second to understand who Harry was referring to.</p><p>
  <em>Lucius Malfoy.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, bugger.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The shaving scene there was a last-minute addition. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote it. Also, in the book, Remus visited Harry in Grimmauld Place and I just thought that it would be impossible to happen in this fic since he and Tonks would be busy looking after Ron and Draco.</p><p>Next chapter will be what I like to call, the 'Ministry Heist'. Also, chapter 2 of Morning After will be up within this week.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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